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OF  THK 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

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Class 


COPYRIGHT  1894 

BY 
ALFRED  ANTOINE   FURMAN 


ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


TO 

UNITED  STATES  SENATOR 

WATSON  C.  SQUIRE  OF  WASHINGTON, 

IN  TOKEN  OF 
THE  MANY  ACTS  OF  KINDNESS  I  HAVE  RECEIVED  FROM  HIS  HANDS, 

THIS  VOLUME 
IS   RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED. 


223758 


THE  VOICELESS  RACE. 


The  sun  drops  through  that  ancient  roof  of  green 
Thatching  your  home  not  made  by  human  hand, 
But  nevermore  on  silent  lake  or  land 
Shall  what  he  viewed  by  him  again  be  seen. 

From  the  dark  soil  ye  sprang  and  in  that  soil 
Have  faded  now,  and  no  memorial  left 
Save  ruin,  and  a  stern  delight  that  kept 
Her  throne  in  visioned  minds  when  time  a  spoil 

Had  made  of  all  things  else.     So  let  it  be. 

Say,  Gheezis  breath  was  weary,  and  no  more 
Blew  summer  in  the  branches  of  your  tree. 

Best  is  it  that  the  wind  from  orien  t  shore 

Should  blast  you,  friendless  hands  tear  down  your 

name, 
And  file  a  lien  on  your  house  of  fame. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 


PERSONS   REPRESENTED. 

POMETACOM,  called  PHILIP,  Chief  of  the  Wampanoags. 

ANNAWAN,  Wampanoag. 

TATOSON, 

TUSPAQUIN,         " 

ALDERMAN,  Pocasset. 

AGAMAUG,          " 

TOTATOMET,  Seconet. 

SAMPONCUT,         " 

ANUMPASH,  " 

CANONCHET,  Narraganset. 

QUINNAPIN,  " 

POMHAM,  " 

UNCAS,  Mohegan. 
ONEKO,         " 
MONOKO,  Nipmuck. 
METACOMET,  Son  of  Philip. 
JOSIAH  WINSLOW,  Governor  of  Plymouth. 
BENJAMIN  CHURCH,  Commander  of  the  Puritan  Forces. 
CAPTAIN  THOMAS  LOTHROP. 
CAPTAIN  SAMUEL  MOSELY. 
CAPTAIN  ROGER  GOLDING. 
WENONAH,  Squaw-Sachem  of  the  Seconets. 
WOOTONEKANUSKE,  Wife  to  Philip. 
WANDA,  Wife  to  Samponcut. 

Indian  Braves  of  the  Allied  Tribes,  Squaws,  Soldiers, 
Citizens. 

SCENE  :  Dispersedly  in  Massachusetts  and  Rhode 

Island. 
TIME  :  1675-1676. 


PHILIP  OF  POKANOKET, 


ACT    I. 

SCENE  I.  POKANOKET.  A  spring  at  the  foot  of  a 
cliff  ;  above,  under  the  trees,  the  lodges  of  the 
Wampanoags. 

Enter  ALDERMAN,  who  bends  to  drink  at  the  rock,  AGA- 

MAUG 


Agamaug.        Wah  ! 
My  brother's  heart  is  sad. 

Tatoson.   Can  streams  escaped  from  winter's  hand 
Mirror  a  sky  of  calm  ?    These  ears  have  drunk 
A  grievous  tale. 

Agamaug.       Let  the  Wampanoag 
Speak  :  open  are  the  ears  of  Agamaug. 

Tatoson.     Listen  !     In  a  deep  glen   where  still 

at  noon 

Twilight  binds  up  the  face  of  day,  I  met 
A  runner  who  from  Apaum  lodges  came, 
Where,  when  his  heart  had  withered  and  turned 

black, 
Dwelt  Sassamon. 

Alderman.         Have  I  not  heard 
The  worms  feed  on  him  now  ? 


10  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Tatoson.  Pocasset,  his  arms  are  long- ; 

And  after  him  they  drag  into  the  earth 
Three  of  our  braves. 

Agamaug.  I  am  to  learn. 

Alderman.  Brother, 

The  whites,  because  he  trod  their  moral  ways, 
Harbored  his  cause:  and  who  shall  hold  their  hand  ? 

Tatoson.  Are  the  Pokanokets 

Dogs  to  bear  this  ?     Can  we  say  to  the  squaw 
Wampapaquin,  the  Apaums  have  his  scalp, 
And  in  the  pale-face  field  his  nation  fears 
To  reap  revenge  ? 

Agamaug.  Unhappily  ye  nursed 

Hatred  to  Sassamon. 

Tatoson.  'Sh  !     A  renegade, 

The  worship  of  his  fathers'  Manitou 
Was  not  good  in  his  eyes  ;  but  he  would  rub 
His  superstition's  itch  by  bowing  down 
Before  a  thorn-crowned  man,  and  in  a  book 
Read  how  he  died  for  him.     Nathless,  he  coined 
Falsehoods,  and  passed  them  in  the  white  men's 

ears  : 

Our  braves  threw  over  him  the  net  of  death, 
That  snared  them  too. 

Alderman.     Fancies  thy  Sachem  that  their  act 
Of  friendship  tastes  ? 

Tatoson.  Pometacom 

Travelled  in  month  of  leaves  where  the  sun  sleeps : 
To  hasten  his  return  our  fleetest  brave 
Unwinds  his  breath*.    Brothers,  our  young  men  live 
In  hovel  of  disgrace,  if  they  shall  lay 
No  axe  at  foot  of  this  death-tree  :  in  vain 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  II 

This  storm  plant  bears  the  blood  of  some  slain  chief 
To  paint  our  cheeks  for  war. 

[Breaks  off  a  blood-root  poppy ',  and  with  its  crim 
son  juice  smears  his  face  and  brcast.\ 

Hist !  here  is  the  Chief 
Coming  with  Annawan.  Borrow  with  me, 
While  they  confer,  the  shelter  of  a  tree. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  PHILIP  and  ANNAWAN. 

Philip.  Annawan, 

I  do  not  think  a  sweeter  spring  than  this 
Leaps  to  the  sun;  it  travels  through  the  earth 
From  house  of  purity,  and  brings  us  health. — 
I  would  pass  by  a  twenty  rills  though  thirst 
Shrivel  my  tongue,  to  quaff  of  thee. 

[Takes  a  horn  cup  from  his  belt,  fills  it  and 
drinks.] 

Annawan.  By  Wabun  ! 

Philip.     [Passes  rapidly  to  Annawan  and  whis 
pers  :]     I  heard  a  twig 
Snapped;  there  are  moccasins:  see  what  it  is  ! 

Annawan.     [Examines  the  foot -prints.'} 
Wampanoag  !     May  never  pale-face  come 
Nearer  than  now  ! 

Philip.  Ha  !  do  they  feel 

The  scalps  burn  on  their  heads  ? 

Annawan.     Nushkah !     our     eyes    have    been 

behind  a  cloud. 

Sachem,  their  new-fledged  purpose  must  not  fly, 
While  we  have  breathing,  into  action's  sky. 

Philip.  Kah !     A  serpent  by  the  fang 

They  take  in  me.     How  did  they  die  ? 


12  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Annawan.  As  they  had  lived, 

Strangers  to  fear. 

Philip.     I  mean,  by  fire  or  steel:  I  know  they  went 
Equipped  with  honor. 

Annawan.  Sachem,  with  me  : 

Hard  by  the  palisades  of  Plymouth  town 
Looms  up  a  gallows  gaunt ; .  and  on  its  arms, 
Rocked  by  the  winds,  bewept  by  pitying  clouds, 
The  forms  of  Panoso  and  Mattashun 
Swing  to  and  fro  ;  and  flocks  of  sordid  fowl 
Fatten  them  at  the  crystal  windows  where 
Looked  out  on  this  fierce  world  those  candid  souls. 
A  nobler  end  welcomed  Wampapaquin  : 
For  standing  with  his  eyes  unbound,  his  brow 
Bared  to  the  golden  sun,  erect,  unmoved, 
The  message  came  written  in  leaden  hail 
Which  sank  him  down  drenched  in  more  honest 

blood — 

Nushkah  ! — than  musters  in  their  arrogant  veins 
Since  time  began. 

Philip.  Their  spirits  pardon  me  ! 

Look  down,  ye  braves,  and  register  my  vow. 
In  rank  ye  were  the  least  among  my  tribe; 
But  here  on  ancient  site  of  this  your  .race 
I  swear  your  end  deeply  shall  be  avenged. 
Wake,  dogs  of  war  !  and  with  your  ulcered  tongues 
*_'     Lick  up  the  drops  that  so  untimely  flowed, 

Till  your  swart  veins  shall  swell  to  mountain  size 

And  burst  in  pitiless  havoc  on  the  land. 

With  solemn  hand  married  to  your  redress, 

I  now  unbelt  my  hatred  of  the  whites  ; 

And  bid  it  roam  sleepless  the  bounds  of  earth 

In  quest  of  blood  to  sate  its  appetite. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  13 

Annawan.  Pometacom, 

Justice  shall  come  again  on  this  wild  scene, 
And  hallow  thee. 

Philip.  Ay,  Chief,  if  I  should  tell 

What  we  have  borne,  meekly  and  humbly  borne, 
The  tedious  story  must  bankrupt  the  day, 
And  even  be  a  debtor  to  the  night. 

Annawan.     Oh  Sachem  !  shall  words,  and  words 

alone, 
Build  up  this  flame  ? 

Philip.  No,  Annawan, 

The  fuel  of  our  wrongs  shall  feed  the  blaze 
Till  its  red  jaws  devour  their  settlements. 
Assemble  here  the  warriors  when  the  moon 
Hangs  on  the  western  wall  her  silver  bow. 
Send  wind-fleet  messengers  to  Canonchet, 
Bidding  him  to  our  war-dance  lead  his  braves  ; 
To  the  wile-loving  Uncas  and  his  chiefs 
Whose  fame  on  brow  of  deeds  unspeakable 
Redly  is  written  ;  to  the  Pocasset  Squaw  ; 
To  her  who  sways  the  ocean  Seconets  ; 
And  all  the  tribes  that  moist  with  tears  of  rage 
The  scant  meat  eaten  by  grace  of  English  hands  : 
White  wampum  to  them  send,  of  our  resolve 
A  pledge,  framed  in  fair  words.     Do  not  delay. 

Annawan.  This  points  to  my  desire. 

I  go,  Pometacom.  \Exit. 

Philip.  I  lean  on  thee  ! — 

The  arrow  from  the  bow  is  sped.     Hence,  peace  ! 
And  crouch  in  slavish  breasts  :  thou  didst  infect 
Our  valor's  health  with  indolence  and  fear, 
And  played  the  pander  to  our  virgin  pride. 
Come,  painted  war  !  and  sack  the  house  of  life, 


14  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Hanging  thy  features  with  its  ruby  wealth, 
Till  they  shall  seem  so  noble  in  our  eyes 
That  every  forest  child  shall  worship  thee. 

[Exit. 

SCENE  II. — SOGKONATE.  A  lodge  on  the  seashore, 
with  the  Seconet  village  in  the  distance,  amid  tufts 
of  coarse  grass  and  clumps  of  dwarf  pines. 

ANUMPASH,  painting-  his  face  in  the  ocean  mirror;  TOTA- 
TOMET,  in  war  dress  and  armed>  pacing  the  sands. 

Totatomet.  I  loved  her,  Anumpash  : 

Not  twenty  whites  with  all  their  cloud  of  heart, 
Dilated  in  the  pure  serene  of  love, 
Could  reach   to  mine.     Our  thoughts,    our  lives 

were  twinned, 

As  buds  to  spring,  as  shadows  to  the  night, 
We  sought  all  strange  and  solitary  haunts — 
The  uncompanionable  rock,  the  sea 
In  whose  white  mane  I  joyed  to  wind  my  hand, 
And  whirl  away.    For  her  I  grappled  death 
What  time  a  venomed  brute  crouched  in  the  grass, 
His  fearful  rattles  shaking,  lanced  her  side  : 
I  sucked  the  wound,  and  of  the  poison  drank 
Deep  draughts,  to  pension  her  with  life.      For  her, 
To  signalize  my  prowess  in  her  eyes, 
I  took  the  black  bear  in  mine  arms  and  fed 
My  hungry  knife  with  his  bold  blood .    And  she 
Would  watch  my  coming  with  expectant  eyes  ; 
And  a  warm  glance  rewarded  all  my  toils. 
Now  all  is  changed  !     And  why  ?    Am  1  not  held 
The  foremost  warrior  of  the  Seconets, 
So  far  before  in  every  woodland  art 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  15 

The  foot  of  competition  limps  behind  ? 
What  maiden  of  the  village  would  not  bless 
The  happy  hour  that  led  her  to  my  lodge  ? 
That  hell-sent  pale-face  hath  bewitched  the  Squaw 
With  praises  of  her  liquid  eye,  her  hair 
Falling  adown  her  neck  like  midnight's  wing : 
His  adder  tongue  hath  charmed  her  silly  wit, 
And  hissed  away  the  favor  she  was  wont 
To  rapture  me.     I  hate  him  :   he  must  die. 

Anumpash.     Ay,  let  him  die. 

Totatomet.  Hark,  Anumpash  ! 

The  stalk  of  peace  is  rotten  and  decayed  ; 
And  weeds  of  strife  grow  in  our  quiet  fields. 
I  offer  her  to  bitter  thoughts,  and  seek 
War  as  a  bride.    The  brave  Wampanoags 
Will  hold  a  war-dance  at  Pokanoket, 
And  paint  them  for  the  fray,  what  time  the  moon 
Her  silver  bow  hangs  on  the  western  wall. 
Haste  we  to  gird  our  fortunes  in  their  cause: 
Some  chance  will  point  the  way  to  my  revenge. 

Anumpash.     I  am  with  thee. 

Enter  SAMPONCUT,  with  nets  on  his  shoulder. 

Samponcut.     Peace  be  with  thee,  Totatomet. 

Totatomet.     We  parted  but  this  hour,  and  I  am 

friend 
Only  to  strife. 

Samponcut.     What !  hath  an  indigestion  base 
Usurped  thy  wonted  humor's  seat,  and  turned 
The  fur  of  thy  serenity  ?    In  truth, 
He  is  my  mortal  foe,  and  could  I  take 
The  varlet  at  advantage,  I  would  trip 
His  heavy  heels  and  pummel  so  his  ribs, 


l6  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

He  would  shake  off  the  arm  of  my  acquaintance, 

And  never  look  me  in  the  face  again. 

Whip  him  with  a  spare  meal,  the  Meda  says  ; 

But  I  and  fasting  can  no  more  agree 

Than  oil  and  water. 

Totatomet.  Ah  !   Samponcut, 

The  time  hath  indigestion,  and  it  groans 
To  bear  upon  its  back  these  slothful  days. 
Mix  me  in  thine  alembic  what  will  cure 
The  jaundiced  state,  and  I  will  fee  thy  skill 
With  boundless  wealth  of  praise. 

Samponcut.  Oh,  brave,  what  pay  to  hedge 

Me  from  the  winter  winds  !    Yet  for  I  love 
Thy  youth,  I  counsel  thee.    Thy  mind  is  ill, 
And  host  to  vain  desires.     Content  will  splint 
Thy  broken  hopes,  heir  thee  to  happiness. 
Content  hath  a  free  hand  :  he  scatters  joys 
On  every  step  of  this  our  mortal  way. 
Like  the  dull  snail,  he  carries  on  his  back 
All  that  he  owns  ;  his  patrimony  is 
The  fair  landscape  ;  the  ray  of  a  June  sun 
His  wampum  all. 

Totatomet.        I  understand 
Nothing  of  this.     Come,  Anumpash  ! 

Samponcut.  Hold, 

Totatomet !     Wenonah  hath  forbid 
Thy  going  hence.     Afrenzied  is  thy  mind 
By  fasting  in  the  war-devoted  grove  ; 
Thou  hast  dressed  up  in  battle  garb  ;  thy  cheeks, 
Thy  massive  breast  with  all  the  symbols  dread 
Painted,  and  shaven  thy  head  till  the  scalp-lock 
But  now  remains  wherein  the  foe  may  twine 
His  dripping  hand.    To  slaughter  are  thy  thoughts 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  iy 

Neighbors,  on  trails  of  war  will  set  thy  feet. 
No  more  to  bask  thee  in  the  vivid  sun 
And  nod  the  hours  away  ;  no  more  to  sit 
Within  thy  wigwam's  shade,  and  gloating  pick 
A  partridge  breast.     In  river  of  this  past 
Wade,  and  the  voice  of  loss  shall  bid  thee  stay. 

Totatomet.     I  weep  for  thee,  my  mother  Sogko- 

nate  ! 

The  rule  deputed  to  a  squaw  whose  cheek 
Moulteth  its  ruby  plume  at  voice  of  war  : 
Whose  power  is  built  on  packs  of  foolish  ones 
Fettered  to  grossness.    The  six  Pokanokets 
Who  came  with  offers  from  Pometacom 
To  seal  a  firm  alliance  of  our  tribes, 
By  pale-face  wheedling  and  intrigue  dismissed 
With  marks  of  outrage  and  contempt ;  this  hand 
Disdained  ;  and  in  the  chalice  of  my  life 
A  brood  of  vipers  dropped  !    Oh  !  that  I  had 
The  thunder's  mouth  to  rattle  in  their  ears 
My  loathing  tongue  ! 

Samponcut.  Ho!  ho!  Totatomet, 

Cannot  our  peaceful  life  roof  in  and  close 
Those  towering    thoughts   which   wander  to  the 

stars ! 

Thy  totem  bar  this  summer  storm  of  Squaw 
Wenonah  thy  best  self  curdle  and  cream: 
Thy  genuine  merit  will  her  coquetry 
Outface,  to  thy  devotion  bow  her  choice. 
But  calm  thy  sea  of  passion  ere  it  roll 
Upon  thy  beach  of  fortune  ;  and  beget 
Pappooses  none  so  choleric  and  rash. 

Totatomet.          Old  man,  I  have  no  time,  no  wish, 
To  list  these  homilies.     Within  this  bag 


l8  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

I  have  put  up  some  acorns  and  parched  maize; 
And  kindred  spirits  by  the  willows  wait 
Our  coming,  to  join  the  heroes  of  the  age. 
Sunk  in  the  ooze  of  sloth,  crawl,  Samponcut, 
With  belly  groaning  'neath  its  load  of  food 
Unto  thine  end:  the  feast  of  battle  mine. 

Samponcut.     But  pray  thee  wait  a  moment  while 

mine  eyes 

Feed  on  thy  martial  brow.     In  youth  I  heard 
The  dark  tale  of  a  warrior  who  like  thee 
Glory  incensed;  and  if  my  strangered  tongue 
Trip  not  in  memory's  path,  of  him  they  said  : 
Lo!  in  his  eye  how  stern  command  doth  ride  ; 
How  swells  his  heart  with  passion's  angry  tide  ; 
And  in  his  legs  there  chafes  a  bridled  steed 
Shall  chase   the  whites    with  more    than   mortal 
speed. 

Totatomet.  No  lazy  tide 

Flows  in  thy  throat !     But  moccasin  of  thine, 
Catcher  of  eels,  will  never  brush  aside 
The  forest  leaves,  with  braves  on  the  war-path. 
I  pardon  thee  for  that  thy  soul  is  mean, 
And  no  time  hath  the  face  of  battle  seen. 
Thy  blood  is  stagnant,  and  it  cannot  feel 
The  perfect  joy  of  war  ;  what  time  we  steal 
With  tomahawk  uplifted  on  the  foe, 
Sprinkling  the  glad  earth  with  his  abject  brain  ; 
To  dance  with  rapturous  whoopings  in  the  glow 
Of  burning  houses;  and  to  count  our  gain 
Of  guns  and  scalps  and  maidens  pale  with  woe : 
Then  with  wild  pride  fade  in  the  woods  again. 

Samponcut.     No  ;    I  am  fat  and  cannot  run  like 
thou. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  ig 

Long  hath  our  tribe  hung  round  the  neck  of  peace; 
And  I  am  only  valiant  'gainst  the  waves 
Whose  pale-green  shoulders  nestle  in  the  arms 
Of  these  white  sands.     Rein  in  thy  surly  pride  ; 
And  down  life's  stream  with  me  serenely  glide. 

Totatomet.     When    the  bee   drinks   no  more  at 
honey-wells.  [Exit. 

Anumpash.     And  the  dew  falls  at  noon.      [Exit. 

Samponcut.  I  breathe  again  ! 

A  captive  in  the  Mohawk  towns  he  drank 
Their  spirit    fierce.     Dropped   in    these    tranquil 

days, 

He's  like  a  goby  jerked  on  the  wan  shore 
With  a  bone  hook.     So  shake  my  nerves  again, 
Brain  fever  puts  me  in  a  bed  of  leaves. 
By  Peboan  !  I  doubt  me  if  our  shaved 
Warriors  glean  profit  in  this  field  of  war; 
For  fortune  wears  the  pale-face  in  her  heart, 
And  like  a  lover  smiles  on  all  his  plans. 
To  let  us  sit  beneath  the  tree  of  peace 
Was  wisdom  in  Wenonah,  though  her  course 
The  white  chief  steered,  who  put  to  headlong  rout 
The  gallants  of  our  tribe,  and  stormed  the  fort 
Of  her  affections.     A  moment  of  thy  time, 
Oh  Manitou  !  thy  servant  pilfers  now, 
Beseeching  thee  to  hold  the  Seconet 
Nation  pure  of  Wampanoags.     I  craved 
Hard  knocks  on  the  head  never,  no,  not  I  : 
Though  it  is  blamable — have  the  winds  ears  ? — 
Sweet  braves,  to  say  it  in  these  iron  times, 
I  own  I  love  my  life,  and  still  prefer 
To  wade  at  ebb  tide  for  a  nest  of  clams 
Than  to  adorn  my  lodge  with  long-haired  scalps. 


20  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

But  now  the  golden  scout  of  day  is  camped 

Proudly  upon  the  blue  hills  of  the  sky: 

'Tis  time  that  Wanda  had  prepared  my  meal — 

Corn-cake,  mussels,  fat  pemmican  and  teal. 

Cherish  thy  stomach,  braves,  and  all  is  well : 

By  that  neglect  our  star  of  empire  fell.  [Exit. 


SCENE  III. — POKANOKET.  The  centre  of  the  Wampa- 
noag  village,  a  wide  grassy  space  surrounded  by 
the  bark  lodges  of  the  tribe.  On  one  side  a  huge 
fire  of  pine  knots  ;  on  the  other,  a  young  oak  strip 
ped  of  its  branches  and  planted  in  the  earth  as  a 
war-pole.  In  a  semicircle  are  seated,  silent  and 
grave,  the  leading  chiefs,  PHILIP,  CANONCHET, 
UNCAS,  TUSPAQUIN,  ANNAWAN,  POMHAM,  while 
grouped  by  rock  and  tree  the  Sagamores  and  braves, 
ALDERMAN,  AGAMAUG,  ONEKO,  QUINNAPIN,  MONOKO, 
TATOSON,  and  others,  Wampanoags,  Narragansets, 
Pocassets,  Nipmucks.  Time  :  night,  the  new 
moon  low  in  the  western  sky. 

Quinnapin.    The  trail  of  the  Mohegans  is  long. 

Oneko.  They  see  more  glory  on  the  brow  of  peace. 

Alderman.    Say  rather  that  the  fiery  blasts  of  war 
Shrivel  their  leaves  of  courage  up. 

Quinnapin.    A  pattern  here  !   Wenonah's  braves 
Skulk  in  their  lodges. 

Monoko.  Yet  would  they  scorn  to  prowl 

In  lodges  of  their  friends. 

Quinnapin.  Ha  ! 

Oneko.  And  is  it  true 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  21 

Ye  bartered  all  ?    Not  even  a  poor  ditch 
To  fight  them  in  ! 

Quinnapin.          An  thou  wilt  fight, 
The  rabbit  wears  a  valiant  heart  and  cries 
'  Esa  '  to  the  she-bear. 

Oneko.  Nay,  drinker  of  fire  ! 

In  fields  of  war  my  victories  are  won, 
Not  reaped  in  arms  of  squaws. 

Quinnapin.  Oh  Unktahee  ! 

No  scalp  thy  belt  dangles  but  it  was  gleaned 
In  head  of  some  decrepit  wretch  who  blessed 
The  Master  of  Life  thou  kindly  didst  snuff  out 
The  candle  of  his  woes.     Yerks  forth  thy  hand 
Some     wintry    hairs,   straightway     thy     fawning 

tongue 
Whispers,  Lo  !  here  a  brave.     Woman  ! 

Oneko.  Thy  soul,  if  thou  hast  one, 

Howlings  inherit !     If  my  lodge  were  bare 
As  thine  of  noble  trophies,  I  would  beg 
The  first  pappoose  make  in  my  lily  heart 
Bed  for  his  knife  of  lath.     Dog  ! 

Tatoson.        Sheath  your  disputes  !     To-morrow 

you  shall  drink 
Your  fill  of  blood. 

Quinnapin.  Go  to  !     Next  he  eats  salt 

Like  any  white. 

Enter  TOTATOMET  and  Seconet  braves. 

Tatoson.  The  paint  of  the  Seconets  ! 

Totatomet.  You  called  for  fighting  men , 

And  we  are  here. 

Warriors.  Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! 


22  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Philip.     \_Ariscs  and  Advances  to  the  war-post  J\ 

My  worthy  Seconets  ! 

You  rock  my  hopes  in  cradle  of  success. — 
Mohegan,  thou  art  welcome  :  on  thy  head 
The  years  sit  lightly  ;  thy  great  voice  of  fame 
Our  every  wigwam  hears. — Canonchet,  here 
Be  free  !     The  heritage  of  a  proud  name 
Never  did  fall  in  purer  hands  ;  subdued 
Our  honors  stand  before  the  face  of  thine. — 
Brothers,  you  tread  on  your  own  soil. 

Canonchet.         Our  hearts  are  glad,  Pometacom. 

Uncas.     Sachem,  mine  eyes   are  bleared  ;    they 

cannot  see 
The  calumet  of  peace. 

Philip.  No  sacred  smoke, 

Uncas,  will  curl  thee  from  that  bowl  to-day. — 
Brothers,  your  ears  have  heard 
The  cry  that  rises  from  Pokanoket ; 
You  were  not  sleeping  when  our  arrows  came 
Covered  with  blood.     What  then  ?    A  fifty  years 
Have  fallen  from  the  wrinkled  hand  of  time 
Since  first  the  pale-face  seized  these  virgin  shores, 
And  sowed  such  changes  in  our  field  of  fate. 
They  were  but  few ;  and  on  Patuxet  rock 
Huddled,  their  hosts  were  gloomy  rain  and  cold 
That  chain  the  spirited  blood  in  cells  of  death  ; 
And  hunger,  shearing  off  life's  golden  fleece. 
My  father,  Massasoit,  hand  in  hand 
Travelled  with  gentleness  ;  and  to  his  breast, 
In  luckless  day,  he  took  the  frozen  viper 
And  warmed  it  into  life.     He  gave  them  corn  ; 
And  counsel  from  his  hospitable  mind  ; 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  23 

And  built  them  lodges  in  the  red  man's  land. 
His  kindness  was  the  author  of  our  fall  : 
Quenched  at  its  birth  this  fatal  brand  of  strife 
Had  sputtered  out  in  ashes  of  his  power, 
And  we  had  held  our  fathers'  heritage. 
They  waxed  in  greatness  like  the  moon  :  at  first 
A  silver  thread  lacing  the  waist  of  heaven, 
It  grows  a  ball  of  brightness  till  its  orb 
In  beauty  lights  the  ebon  cheek  of  night. 
Over  the  barren  seas  their  sail-winged  barks 
Hundreds  of  white  men  bore.     Their  towns  arose 
Like  spirits  of  the  dark,  with  motion  fringed 
The  curving  bays,  the  rapid  rivers'  banks, 
Whose  solitude  had  echoed  but  the  cries 
Of  red  men  since  the  earth  was  young.    Like  mist 
We  melted  in  the  rays  of  this  new  sun. 
Our  lands  are  coaxed  to  flow,  despite  our  will, 
Into  their  hands  ;  our  hunting  grounds,  dark,  pure, 
Betrayed  to  light ;  our  warriors  from  their  faith, 
None  nobler  now,  seduced,  and  taught  to  pray 
To  unknown  gods,  the  Spirit  who  rides  in  storms, 
Who  loved  our  fathers  and  our  fathers  loved, 
Torn  from  the  sky  !    We  quaffed  the  crystal  spring, 
And  reason  kept  him  on  his  noble  throne  : 
Now  in  the  burning  waves  of  their  new  drink 
Founders  the  vessel  of  our  native  pride. 
Their  laws  invade  our  immemorial  rights 
Bequeathed  from  sire  to  son,  and  snare  our  feet 
Walking  in  the  old  ways  ;  and  lo  !  our  braves 
Death-doomed  without  a  trial  by  their  peers, 
The  gallows  arbitrating  !     Ye  forest  sons  ! 
Lords  of  yourselves  and  born  to  liberty, 
Whose  merits  should  stand  free  and  unabashed 


24  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Before  the  eye  of  fortune,  will  ye  lick, 
Fallen  so  low,  the  hand  of  this  harsh  change, 
And  perish  in  the  furious  tide  of  wrong-  ? 
Or  shaking  off  your  dream  of  apathy, 
Free  our  beloved  Kinshon  from  the  yoke  ? 
Brothers,  decide  !     Pometacom  hath  spoke. 

[A  long  silence. 

Uncas.    \Arises  in  his  place  and  bends  slightly 
forward  with  raised-up  hand^\ 

I  seem  to  hear  the  voice  of  other  days 
Buried  in  silence  ;  music  that  will  charm 
Trees  and  dull  rocks  out  of  their  patient  forms 
To  follow  thee  admiring.     But  are  thy  braves 
Rebels  to  life,  that  they  will  take  up  arms 
Against  the  hand  of  fate  ?     Is  the  Great  Spirit 
Recruiting  his  bright  legions  in  the  sky, 
And  drafts  Wampanoags  ?     Pometacom, 
What  gifts  hast  thou  from  nature  :  use  them  well ! 
Let  not  ambition  leap  upon  thy  will, 
To  drive  thee  in  the  bitter  gulf  of  war 
Scattered  with  bleaching  hopes.     Sit  in  thy  lodge, 
And  let  thy  lusty  braves  the  unfooted  wilds 
Wander  by  side  of  peace. 

Pomham.  Sachem,  who  can  divorce 

The  red  man  from  his  bride  of  war  ?     Her  form 
Beckoned  his  eye  in  lone  antiquity, 
And  taught  his  arm  the  practice  of  revenge. 
In  paths  of  lowness  let  Mohegans  tread  : 
The  Narraganset  bosom  cannot  nurse 
Children  of  fear.     The  finger  of  the  whites 
Hath  smeared  a  dark  spot  on  the  red  man's  lodge, 
And  only  blood  can  wash  it  out. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  25 

Uncas.  I  deem  in  house  of  age 

Prudence  should  dwell.     Alas  !  my  words  are  cold. 
The  sceptre  of  the  Sachem's  eloquence 
Waving-  your  fervid  souls  to  battle's  edge, 
I  do  not  sway  :  the  plummet  of  my  thoughts 
I  can  but  drop  in  wisdom's  pure,  cold  well. 
The  lurid  face  of  war  with  serpents  twined, 
I  worshipped  :   ere  your  hands  could   stretch  the 

bow, 

Down  from  his  gloomy  brow  had  I  plucked  fame, 
And  gorged  the  ashen  fruits  of  victory 
Purchased  by  streams  of  blood.     But  is  it  good 
To  press  our  lips  unto  a  burning  stream  ? 
To  so  dire  wharf  mooring  our  nation's  bark  ? 
Where  is  the  Pequod  race  whose  genius  supped 
From  the  red  hand  of  war  ?     In  the  great  Eye 
That  overlooks  the  world  and  reads  our  lives, 
Ye  are  rebuked  if  their  so  fiery  fate 
Scorch  not  the  lustre  of  your  new  design. 
From  them  I  draw  my  blood  ;  and  when  they  stood, 
The  forest  lords,  mantled  in  bright  renown, 
Around  the  war-post  could  a  thousand  braves 
Rally,  the  song  obsequious  to  death 
In  frenzy  chanting,  frenzy  and  despair. 
In  evil  hour  they  stirred  the  English  power 
Sleeping  till  then  ;  and  like  a  drought-lit  fire 
With  crimson  feet  raging  in  autumn  woods, 
It  fell  on  them  consuming.     Where  are  they  now  ? 
The  earth  can  tell  :   like  seared  and  yellow  leaves 
Chased  by  the  wind  and  crammed  in  winter's  maw, 
Their  blighted  honors  strew  the  ground  of  time. 
Softly  doth  age  my  knot  of  life  untie  ; 
Soon  must  I  step  down  in  the  mortal  stream, 
2 


26  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

And  taste  the  inevitable  wave  of  death  : 
Yet  not  so  dim  mine  eyes  but  they  can  see 
Yawning  a  grave  for  them  who  string  their  hopes 
On  pale-face  conquest.     Ye  stumblers,  I  have  said. 

Monoko.     I  rub  the  cheek  of  Uncas,  and  I  see 
A  pale-face  skin  :  the  whites  have  given  him 
A  petticoat,  and  in  his  lodge  with  squaws 
Have  bid  him  stay.     Soonever  he  hears  move 
His  masters'  lips,  come,  he  comes  ;  go,  he  goes  ; 
And  eats  the  crumbs  that  from  their  tables  fall. 
But  in  the  foretime  when  the  noble  sun 
Climbed  out  the  crimson  windows  of  the  east, 
Until  he  laved  his  brow  in  western  waves, 
He  saw  no  slave.     Sachems,  I  am  too  old 
To  learn  the  lessons  of  obedience  ; 
And  I  had  rather  go  into  the  earth 
While  freedom  lives,  than  bear  her  to  the  tomb. 

Alderman.  Ay,  Monoko,  it  flies  on  wing  of  truth  : 
If  Pequods  tread  no  more  the  provident  earth 
Uncas  can  tell :  were  not  his  arrows  aimed 
At  Pequod  hearts  ?    A  red  man's  memory 
Is  longer  than  the  justice  of  the  whites. 

Annawan.  Braves,  your  proud  words 

Roll  up  the  shadows  from  my  memory's  sky. 
Methinks  I  see  that  oak  so  serious  clad 
In  rustling  robe  of  green,  and  lifting  high 
A  storm-swept  head  above  its  forest  kin, 
Felled  in  the  morning  of  renown.     But  yet 
From  out  its  prostrate  fertile  trunk  shall  spring 
A  well-starred  tribe  whose  roots  shall  pierce  the 

earth 

Still  deeper,  and  whose  brow  shall  kiss  the  skies. 
Why  should  our  courage  faint  beneath  the  breath 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  2J 

Of  Yengeese  fortune  ?  Every  thought  of  peace 
Disown  while  breathe  our  air  and  tread  our  soil 
They  who  should  dwell  in  flaming  heart  of  hell. 

Totatomet.  Wampanoag, 

No  Seconet  but  thou  hast  fathered  me. 
My  thought  is  naked  as  the  common  air, 
And  leaps  to  press  the  lips  of  thine  intent, 
In  its  own  strength  reposing,  and  your  right : 
For  me  one  hour  of  sloth-reproving  strife 
Outweighs  a  century  of  sluggish  life. 

Tuspaquin.  I  learn  the  way  ! 

Give  all  the  braves  to  know  that  purer  blood 
Than  mountain  dew,  on  which  thy  heart  hath  fed  ! 
The  springs  may  dry,  if  yet  to  slake  our  thirst 
Veins  of  the  pale-face  flow. 

Quinnapin.     Brothers,  is  Apaum  fortune  builfc  so 

strong, 

The  Narraganset  arm  may  not  reach  up 
And  tear  it  down  ?     Lead  on,  Pometacom, 
And  death  shall  own  allegiance  to  this  arm. 

Warriors.        Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! 

Canonchet.  Pometacom, 

I  pledge  mine  arms  and  Narraganset  bands 
To  clothe  in  acts  thy  purpose  and  commands. 

Uncas.     Great  Narraganset,  kindle  not  a  fire 
In  whose  red  arms  thy  nation  will  expire. 

Pomham.     He   counsels  thee   whose  father  he 
betrayed. 

Canonchet.  Not  that  way,  Shawomet!     The  hand 

of  time 

Hath  healed  that  wound:  the  dead  are  happier  far 
Than  base  ones  breathing. — But  ye,  alone  as  now, 
Can  ye  find  honor  in  your  enslaved  lodge 


28  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Paled  round  with  curses  deep  ;  and  be  content 
To  barter  skins  for  scarlet  coats  and  guns  ; 
To  search  the  wrinkled  shore  for  purple  shells, 
And    drill    you    strings    of    wampum — trade    of 

squaws  ? 
Can  ye   with    clean  hands  to  the  Great   Spirit's 

lodge 

Carry  your  lives  ?    Fawn  on  the  pale-face  hand, 
Hearts  treason-bit,  and  fix  your  perilled  eye 
On  Plymouth  lips  so  dear.     My  soul  is  free  : 
The  air  of  peace  blows  like  a  furnace  blast, 
And  stifles  it. — 

Dig  up  the  hatchet  buried  now  too  long, 
And  glad  me  with  your  ancient  battle  song. 
Lo  !  here  I  strike. 

[Advances  to  the  war -post  and  buries  his  hatchet  in  it. 
Rude  drums.  The  WAMPANOAGS  advance  and  chant 
their  war-cry] 

THE    WAR-SONG. 
I. 

1    The  chain  of  peace  is  snapped  in  twain, 
Our  sturdiest  braves  in  ambush  slain; 

But  squaws  alone  will  weep: 
Be  ours  to  grasp  the  tomahawk, 
And  through  the  files  of  battle  stalk 
To  bathe  in  vengeance  deep. 

Ye  forest  sons  !  arise  !  arise  ! 
And  ring  your  war-whoops  to  the  skies; 
And  where  a  foe  shall  rear  his  head 
Bequeath  him  to  the  silent  dead. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  29 

2. 

Your  fathers'  wrongs  call  from  the  earth; 
Your  own  chase  from  your  breast  its  mirth, 

For  vengeance  crying  loud: 
No  longer  creep  from  birth  to  death; 
But  rise  and  fling  away  your  breath 

In  voice  of  triumph  proud. 


See  from  its  grave  the  hatchet  leap, 
In  blood  the  face  of  foes  to  steep, 

While  round  the  warriors  smile: 
He  who  shall  die  in  cause  like  this, 
Shall  wash  his  soul  in  tides  of  bliss 

On  Manitou's  blue  isle. 

Agamaug.     Would   this   were  heart  of   all   our 
enemies !  [Strikes. 

Tatoson.     No  way  but  this  : 

A  warrior's  life  is  bliss.  [Strikes. 

Uncas.     Their  minds  turn  out  of  doors  the  one 

wise  voice. 

Master  of  Life  !  if  still  with  favor  on  thy  red 
Children  thou  lookest,  hang  not  on  their  hopes 
This  insane  veil  that  blinds  and  muffles  up 
The  face  of  reason.     Come  !     We  may  not  stay  : 
Their  feet  are  wending  on  a  tragic  way. — 
We  go,  Pometacom  ;   but  come  what  may, 
My  wonder  holds  thee  more  than  common  clay. 
Oneko.   [To  QUINNAPIN.]    I  see  a  halter  dangling 

in  the  air, 
To  clasp  thy  gullet  in  its  fingers  bare. 


3O  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Quinnapin.     I  see  a  whip  suspended  in  the  air, 
Which  I  would  clutch  to  welt  thy  shoulders  bare  ; 
But  I  disdain  to  soil  me  with  such  fry, 
When  noble  souls  await  my  hand  to  die. 

Oneko.     Perchance  the  future  may  reserve  for  me, 
That  I  may  lay  it,  Quinnapin,  on  thee. 

\Exeunt  UNCAS  and  ONEKO. 
Philip.  Thy  years  be  honored  ! — 

And  yet  we  should  have  known  a  generous  thought 
Poured  never  from  his  lips.     But  it  is  well. 
My  braves  are  numerous  as  the  sparkling  sands 
On  which  the  ocean  clasps  his  emerald  hands  ; 
Their  hearts  are  panting  for  the  battle  fray  : 
I  could  not  if  I  wished  it  say  them  nay.       [Strikes. 
[All  the  chiefs  and  warriors  in  succession  advance  to  the 
war-pole  and  hack  it  with  their  hatchets ;    then  they 
pass  around  it  in  a  circle  and  chant  the  burden  of  a 
battle  song  : 

We  will  tread  on  the  heads  of  the  foe, 
In  the  arms  of  the  dust  lay  them  low. 
At  the  conclusion  they  turn  to  PHILIP  and  salute  him 
with  tumultuous  and  joyful  cries .] 

Philip.     Sachems,  warriors,  Narragansets,  tribes 
men, 

And  all  bound  with  me  in  this  belt  of  war, 
Falters  my  tongue  on  mountain  of  your  worth 
Too  high  for  my  weak  praise  to  overclimb. 
A  presage  this  of  triumph  and  renown, 
If  constancy  shall  even-footed  run 
With  valor's  steps,  and  each  on  honor  wait. 
Let  no  division  in  your  counsels  steal, 
The  rock  on  which  the  Pequod  cause  was  wrecked, 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  3! 

And  I  from  victory  to  victory 
A  path  will  blaze  ;  jewel  your  hands  with  spoil 
That  shall  outmint  the  coinage  of  your  dreams  ; 
And  weigh   your  belts  with  scalps  down   to  the 

ground  ; 

And  choke  your  wigwams'  mouth  with  captive  foes; 
And  build  your  memory  a  house  of  fame 
To  dwell  forever  in. 

Warriors.  Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! 

Canonchet.  Pometacom, 

We  walk  the  clouds  with  thee. 

Philip.  The  rich  reality  shall  beggar  it. 

Now  to  your  lodges  till  to-morrow's  sun 
Over  Pocasset  peering  see  our  work  begun. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.  SOGKONATE.  The  Seconet  village.  Be 
fore  the  lodge  of  WENONAH  on  the  seashore. 
Moonlight. 

Enter  WENONAH  and  CHURCH. 

Wenonah.  Besides,  white  chief, 

A  bitter  discontent  strides  through  the  tribe, 
Chiding  my  action  with  a  saucy  tongue  : 
The  head  of  the  revolt,  Totatomet, 
Whose  gloomy  spirit  nursed  in  battle's  arms, 
Demanded  that  the  wind  of  Sogkonate, 
Freighted  with  war,  should  blow  in  Philip's  sails. 

Church.    Wenonah,  in  this  cause  thou  hast  invited 
Reproach,  danger  perhaps  :  thy  deed  outruns 
My  swiftest  tongue  of  praise. 

Wenonah.  It  is  not  that,  pale-face  ; 

For  thee  I  would  do  that  would  swallow  up 


32  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

All  other  doing  ;  but  I  am  but  weak. 

In  voice  of  eloquence  and  fame  of  deeds 

That  pour  a  glory  on  the  raging  blood, 

Resides  a  chieftain's  power  :  commands  are  smoke 

Which,  saddled  on  the  air,  flees  into  space, 

When  linked  to  no  deserving. 

Church.  My  people's  debt, 

And  thine  own  worth,  the  best  blood  of  my  heart 
Forever  seals  to  thee. 

Wenonah.  Pale-face,  believe 

'Twas  a  slight  token  of  my  authentic  heart, 
Liegeless  till  now,  to  throw  my  feeble  will 
Across  the  track  of  their  desires.     When  time 
Shall  lead  a  new  occasion  to  my  door, 
With  truer  welcome  will  I  take  its  hand. 

Church.       Thou  art  made  up,  compact  and  firm, 
Of  all  true  qualities. 

Wenonah.  If  thou  say  so, 

And  censures  all  the  world,  I  walk  in  joy. 

Church.     Wenonah,  doubt  me  not. 

Wenonah.  It  seems  a  dream 

Whose  veil  the  morning's  hand  will  tear  away, 
And  with  the  morning  flee. 

Church.  On  such  a  night 

Never  let  day-star  rise  ! 

Wenonah.    Oh  pale-face,  standing  here  in  solemn 

rays 

Of  night's  great  lamp,  with  spirits  of  my  dead 
Hovering  around  to  witness  thy  fond  words, 
Tell  me,  can  love's  weak  hand  clasp  on  thy  life 
But  so  the  fetters  of  a  red  dominion  ? 
Haply  it  is  some  fancy  that  will  die 
When  the  pinched  snows  of  absence  fall  on  it ; 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  33 

Some  passion,  surfeited  by  futile  charms, 
Drowsy  shall  grow  in  afternoon  of  joy  ; 
And  I  would  find  naught  in  the  weary  world 
To  succor  me  despairing. 

Church.  Wenonah,  wean 

That  offspring  of  thine  obdurate  doubts  :  if  I 
Unworthy  prove,  thrust  in  thy  young  men's  hands 
The  ruthless  steel  to  loot  and  ransack  all 
My  treasury  of  life  ;  let  young  love  be 
By  such  relapsing  slain,  and  the  old  hate 
Beleaguer  man's  false  heart. 

Wenonah.  Forgive  me,  Church  ; 

'Twas  only  love  that  counselled  me  to  doubt. 
In  marriage  many  chiefs  have  sought  my  hand  : 
Gifts  to  my  lodge  their  braves  have  brought  to  buy 
Consent  to  their  proposals  :  they  have  come 
Themselves  in  feathered  dress  that  domineers 
The  eye,  to  seat  them  silent  by  my  side, 
Pleading  with  looks  and  sighs  their  amorous  cause. 
In  all  of  them  the  tongue  of  some  defect 
Wrangled  with  their  proud  state,  and  silenced  it 
In  my  imagination.     When  my  eye 
Wandered  to  thee,  its  high  unlorded  glance 
Was  taken  prisoner  by  thy  noble  mien  ; 
While  reason  sat  subdued  by  the  great  fame 
Of  strength  and  skill  thou  bearest  in  the  world. 
I  would  wed  such  a  man  ;  or  I  would  live 
Queen  of  myself,  reigning  in  solitude. 

Church.  I  wear  no  more, 

Wenonah,  on  my  life  the  bloom  of  youth  ; 
And  till  this  time  I  was  content  to  be 
A  dallier  with  love  ;  to  tread  the  earth 


34  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Alone,  leading  my  passions  to  the  tomb  ; 
But  now  my  ways  are  consecrate  to  thine. 

Wenonah.     Alas  !  the  time  poisons  my  brood  of 

hope. 

Thy  people  call  thine  arm  to  their  defence, 
And  duty's  stern  hand  girds  thee  for  the  strife. 
Thy  sword  will  smear  its  silver  lips  with  blood 
Housed  in  my  nation's  veins,  and  hatred  deep 
Will  fix  a  gulf  between  thy  race  and  mine  : 
For  every  fear  my  mind  a  refuge  is  ! 

Church.    Wenonah  dear,  let  not  those  cares 
Creep  on  thy  cheek,  nor  livid  thoughts  of  war 
Usurp  the  peaceful  musings  of  thy  life  : 
Thy  nation  will  not  sail  its  crimson  waves, 
But  lie  in  port  of  peace.     When  it  is  past, 
My  fortune  in  this  island  will  I  cast ; 
Building  a  wigwam  in  the  wilderness 
Where  love  and  thou  the  solitude  shall  bless. 

Wenonah.  This  is  the  trance, 

The  vision  of  my  life  !     That  I  could  clip 
The  pinions  of  old  Time,  so  he  should  sit 
All-patient  at  our  feet,  this  quietude 
Stretching  to  crack  of  doom  !     Why  wilt  thou  go  ? 

Church.     Wild-flower,  gathered  in  desert  of  my 

life! 

I  will  return  on  wings  of  swift  desire, 
To  bathe  my  longing  looks  in  thy  deep  eyes, 
What  time  my  duty  I  discharge  to  make 
Report  at  Plymouth  town  :  anxious  they  wait 
Tidings  how  this  disease  infects  the  land  ; 
And  if  the  Seconets,  in  peace  delighting, 
With  friendship's  hooks  are  grappled  to  them  still, 
While  other  tribes  flow  in  the  sea  of  war. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  35 

But  where  I  go,  whatever  fate  I  see, 
In  my  fond  heart  thou  liv'st  eternally. 

Wenonah.     Ah  me  !  too  early  found,  or  found  too 

late! 

Would  we  were  anchored  in  the  days  of  peace  ! 
This  love  fixes  a  stigma  on  my  creed 
Which  should,  I  know,  by  every  forest  rule 
Counsel  to  fortitude.     The  haggard  wilds 
Peopled  with  grim  Pokanokets  will  rise 
Ever  before  me,  and  their  shadows  stern 
Invade  on  foot  of  dream  the  realm  of  sleep. 
Oh  !  leave  me  pattern  of  that  absolute  heart 
That  feeds  thy  courage  with  its  iron  blood, 
So  I  may  face  the  future  with  a  brow 
Laden  with  smiles,  and  be  serene  as  thou. 

Church.  Dear  one,  dearer  than  ever  now  ! 

The  forest  is  a  glass  where  we  may  see 
The  imperturbable  God  and  learn  His  ways  ; 
And  while  a  ruby  hand  knocks  at  the  heart, 
Fingers  of  hope  should  open  it.     Again 
I  lay  my  parting  on  thy  cheek  and  say, 
Farewell. 

Wenonah.     I  cannot  teach  my  tongue  that  word: 
It  locks  my  lips  with  dumbness.     I  could  burn 
In  the  fierce  flames  of  my  relentless  hate 
Those  rebel  syllables,  that  they  no  more 
Pillage  my  peace. 

Church.  Sweet  Seconet,  thy  will 

Is  sovereign  here  ;  mine  can  but  humbly  page 
The  heels  of  thy  desire.     But  see  !  the  dawn 
With  amber  feet  is  pacing  up  the  east, 
And  calls  me  laggard. 

Wenonah.  No,  'tis  not  the  dawn, 


36  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

But  some  belated  meteor  in  his  flight 
To  trysting-place  beneath  the  canopy 
Of  purple  gloom,  with  yon  enraptured  star 
Whose  sapphire  eyes  beckon  him  gladly  on. 

Church.  To  thee,  my  queen,  I  swear  the  night  is 

young  ; 

Those  jealous  streaks  that  hem  the  dress  of  day, 
But  keener  glances  of  night's  sentinels 
Stretching  their  fiery  necks  to  view  on  earth 
A  perfect  love.     Be  this  my  throne  ! 

Wenonah.      Never  usurper  fear  ! 

Church.  First  fall  the  heavens  ! 

Weapons,  lie  there  !  or  rather  house  your  forms 
Deep  in  these  sands  ;  for  I  subaltern  am 
Only  to  love. 

[  Throws  down  his  arms. 

Wenonah.    A  rarer  strain  is  this 
Than  the  west  wind  for  my  tribe's  Manitou, 
Harvests  and  puts  away. 

Church.  Never  till  now 

When  beauty  came  in  state,  would  my  heart  bow. 

Wenonah.    That  happies  me  yet  more,  and  pales 
,          the  light 
Of  all  my  fondest  hopes  :  yet  thou  must  go. 

Church.     Be  firm  !     Turned  is  the  tide,  and  the 

lithe  waves 
Fawn  at  our  feet  ;  so  shall  misfortune,  too. 

Wenonah.  Before  I  had  not  lived  :  if  now — 

Church.  Nay,  clothed  in  this  delight 

I  am  to  paltry  checks  of  mortal  arm 
Intrenchant  as  the  air. 

Wenonah.  The  village  stirs  ;  the  night 

Faints  at  the  foot  of  day.     In  thine  own  hands  ! 

[Picks  up  his  arms. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  37 

Church.     My  mission  was  forgot. 

Wenonah.  I  have  ensnared 

Thy  resolution  in  the  net  of  my  fond  words, 
And  made  thy  will  a  by- word  and  naught  else 
But  mockery.     Pardon  my  sin. 

Church.  Oh  !  such  sweet  sin 

Would  tempt  the  angels  from  their  banks  of  light 
To  harp  their  songs  to  thee. 

WenonaJi.  I  think  they  have  let  down 

A  mansion  of  delight  where  only  bliss 
Is  servitor  to  me.     But  touches  it 
The  thought  that  thou  must  go,  it  vanishes 
And  all  is  dark  again. 

Church.     The  scowling  face  of  duty  I  will  push 
Back  in  his  cave — 

Wenonah.  No!  linger  thou  must  not 

Till  the  next  wave  foams  on  the  shore.     Away  ! 
Over  night's  hills  fast  climbs  the  morning  gray. 

Church.     Alas  !  that  it  should  be  intruding  day  ! 
I  go,  Wenonah,  but  in  thought  I  stay. 

[Exit.     Wenonah  sinks  in  the  door  of  the  lodge. 


ACT   II. 

SCENE  I.— PLYMOUTH.  A  room  in  Governor  Wins- 
low's  house.  The  walls  covered  with  forest  tro 
phies  ;  in  the  centre  of  room  a  long  table  littered 
with  letters,  books,  and  maps. 

WINSLOW,  LOTHROP,  and  MOSELY,  seated. 

Wins  low.   [Rising.~\     Such  is  the  child 
Of  our  diplomacy  !     We  bent  on  them 
The  gracious  smiling  face,  soothing  their  pride 
With  gifts  their  rudeness  loved.     Our  sacred  book 
We  sent  into  their  huts,  haply  it  might 
File  down  their  spirits  rough  to  deeds  of  peace, 
And  knit  our  lives  in  amity's  soft  bands. 
When  strong  necessity  hath  ruled  the  hour 
Our  weakness  showed  a  visage  masked  in  frowns, 
Their  perfidy  rebuking  ;  while  our  heart 
Trembled  at  face  of  its  temerity. 
Nor  have  we  feared  to  plunge  the  battle's  gage 
Down  at  their  feet,  and  risk  the  worst  of  fate, 
Though  but  a  fringe  on  their  great  cloth  of  war, 
Rather  than  meekly  yield  to  insolent  threats 
That  would  uncrown  our  prestige  in  their  eyes, 
And  send  our  mastery  to  wander  in  contempt. 
But  all  in  vain  !     This  Philip's  restless  soul 
No  threats  may  cower,  no  kindness  may  cajole  : 
As  darkness  ever  hangs  on  edge  of  light, 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  39 

So  on  our  frontiers  hang  his  imps  of  night 
Portending  ruin. — Who  knocks  ? 

Enter  CHURCH. 

Our  worthy  scout  !     Welcome  ! 

Church.  Would  I  bore  news 

Were  welcome  too  ! 

Winslow.  Travel-stained  thou  art — thy  face 

Shadows  the  vale  of  woe. 

ChurcJi.  Dear  Governor, 

Prepare  thy  mind  for  ill. 

Winslow.  I  feel  what  thou  wouldst  say  : 

Peace  droops  her  gentle  head,  for  wolfish  war 
His  reddened  fangs  hath  buried  in  her  breast. 
But  where  hath  Philip  struck  ? 

ChurcJi.  At  Metapoiset  eight  are  dead  ; 

And  on  the  altars  of  their  naked  forms 
Cruel  indignities  the  fiends  have  heaped  : 
Their  gashed  and  mangled  bodies  cast  a  damp 
Upon  the  dazed  beholders — gory  heads 
Stuck  up  on  poles,  glare  fixed  and  stony  eyes 
Mocking  revenge  dealt  out  to  them  who  slew 
The  convert  Sassamon. 

Winslow.  Oh,  piteous  sight ! 

Lothrop.     Cunning  Philip  !     His  patient  craft 
Mousing  pretexts  to  kindle  war,  pounced  on 
That  shadow  of  an  injury  to  weave 
The  jealous  tribes  in  union,  who  till  now 
Put  on  no  strong  desire  to  plunge  them  in 
His  wild  ambition's  stream.    Them  we  must  teach  ! 

Mosely.  Captain,  doth  not  this  rising  run 

Before  the  steps  of  Philip's  plot  ?     I  hear 
Mount  Hope  Wampanoags  of  corn  in  ground 


40  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

A  thousand  acres  have,  which  policy 
Before  the  march  of  war  would  never  plant 
For  fire  to  reap. 

Church.     Mosely,  perchance  our  fears  to  hood 
wink  ;   yet 

The  Sachem's  wiles  or  his  credulity 
Recoiled  from  striking  the  initial  blow  : 
A  whimsical  opinion  in  their  minds 
Dwells,  victory's  face  at  last  would  frown  on  them 
Who  first  shed  blood.     Therefore  his  orders  ran, 
Plunder  the  Swanzey  farms  outlying  ;  maim, 
Drive  to  the  woods,  the  cattle  and  the  sheep, 
But  not  unless  chided  by  bloody  means 
Reply  in  tongue  of  death.     A  quarrel  rose 
With  a  Pokanoket  reeling  in  drink, 
And  one  into  whose  home  he  flung  the  flames  : 
The  savage  bit  the  dust.     Then  all  restraint 
Despair  unleashed  :  the  painted  braves  with  hate 
Swollen,  deeply  their  keen  blood-hunger  sate. 

Mosely.     What  tribes  hath  Philip  welded  to  his 
cause  ? 

Church.     The  Narragansets  do  espouse  his  war, 
Who  bring  a  thousand  warriors  in  the  field  : 
If  good  success  shall  perch  on  his  first  stroke 
The  Nipmucks,  Abenakis,  and  the  hordes 
Peopling  the  shaggy  forests  of  the  north, 
Cement  it  with  their  strength. 

Winslow.     Forsake  us  not,  be  captain  to  us,  God  ! 
Doomed  are  the  settlements  if  thou  thy  face 
Avert,  nor  lead  us  with  thy  stretched-out  hand  ! 

Mosely.  Do  none  of  all  the  tribes 

Turn  here  a  friendly  face,  or  sit  them  down 
In  wigwam  of  neutrality  ? 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  41 

Church.     The  Seconets,  who  count  four  hundred 

braves, 

Would  not  baptize  this  fearful  child  of  war 
With  their  alliance  ;  the  Mohegan  chiefs 
Present  at  the  war-dance,  refused  to  grasp 
The  hand  of  the  rebellion,  but  withdrew, 
The  plotted  war  condemning. 

Enter  ONEKO  and  Mohegan  braves. 

Winslow.  Neither  by  knock 

Announced,  nor  message,  enter  you  ! 

Church.  It  is  the  forest  mode. 

Oneko.     Our  father  will  forgive  us,  since  we  come 
Holding  the  branch  of  peace. 

Winslow.  Mohegan  then  ? 

Oneko.  Oneko  is  my  name  ;  and  when  I  call 

Uncas  my  father,  drink  your  ears  a  name 
With  greatness  goes. 

Winsloiv.  Honored  it  is,  on  our  regard 

Grafted  by  many  friendly  acts. 

Oneko.  Apaum,  open  thine  ears  : 

The  anger  of  Pometacom  is  kindled 
Against  his  pale-face  brothers  ;  it  hath  raised 
Tempests  of  war  to  desolate  your  towns  : 
His  braves  will  travel  in  that  blood-soaked  path, 
But  Uncas  and  his  children  will  not  light 
The  dread  fire  ;  the  chain  of  friendship  they  will 

keep 
Bright  and  unbroken. 

Winslow.  We  hold  thee,  Sagamore, 

In  close  affinity  :  gifts  shalt  thou  bear 
To  the  great  Chief  whose  many- wintered  head 
With  fame  is  bound,  in  token  of  our  love. 
3 


42  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

But  them  who  have  awoke  this  sad  contest, 
Such  punishment  awaits,  and  overthrow, 
Nothing  more  dire  their  Mitchi-Manitou 
Condemns  below.     And  now  our  runners  we  will 

send 

To  warn  the  colonists  the  die  is  cast, 
And  misery  plans  a  foray  in  the  ranks 
Of  their  calm  life.     Thou,  versed  in  Indian  wiles, 

[To  CHURCH] 

Shalt  take  a  company  of  Bradford's  men, 
And  with  our  veteran  Mosely  who  hath  seen 
War's  face  under  Jamaica's  eye  of  fire, 
Co-operate  as  the  occasion's  hand 
To  best  results  may  point. — Lothrop,  thy  years 
Are  in  their  April  leaf  ;  and  hence  I  charge 
That  thou  on  Church  his  long  experience  lean, 
And  be  a  pupil  in  his  forest  art. 
Disputes  about  seniority  of  rank 
Must  bow  to  the  young  peril  of  the  hour 
Perchance  shall  blink  the  bold  eye  of  your  worth: 
The  common  weal  relies  on  you. 

Church.    Governor,  in  the  fierce  school  of  Indian 

arts 

A  little  I  have  learned  :  that  little  I 
Freely  do  offer  to  the  colony's  use. 

Winslow.     Thy  modesty  is  equal  to  thy  worth. — 
My  friends,  prepare  to  march  at  morrow's  dawn. 
The  Lord  will  be  our  shield,  and  great  reward  ; 
Our  rock  and  our  defence  ;  a  cloud  by  day, 
A  pillar  of  fire  by  night. — Braves,  of  your  plans 
Something  our  enterprise  would  taste. 

{Exeunt. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  43 

SCENE  II. — THE  CONNECTICUT  VALLEY.     A  forest  of 
oaks  and  yellow  pines  crossed  by,  an  Indian  trail. 

PHILIP  standing  motionless  beside  a  tree.     Enter  ANNA- 
WAN  on  stealthy  foot,  examining  the  ground. 

Philip.        Is  the  trap  set  ? 
Annawan.  Ready  to  spring. 

Enter  TOTATOMET. 

Philip.     This  is  our  eye.  — Thy  haste  is  eloquent  : 
They  come  this  way  ? 

Totatomet.  See ! 

[He  walks  along  like  a  tired  person . 

The  September  sun 

Too  fondly  kisses  them  :  the  wagons  groan 
Under  heaps  of  red  corn  and  new-made  arms  : 
Sleeps  discipline. 

Philip.  How  many  ? 

Totatomet.     [Moves  his  hand  rapidly  around  his 
head.}  For  each  belt  two. 

Philip.  How  far  ? 

Totatomet.     Pometacom,  the  distance  have  I  run 
While  drifted  yonder  cloud  across  the  sun. 

Philip.   Our  genius  lays  its,  fatal  hands  on  them  ! 
A  slender  stream  crosses  the  road  below  : 
Annawan,  let  twenty  of  thy  best  braves 
So  post  them  that  their  aim  command  the  ford  : 
Myself  will  lead  the  onset  on  the  flanks. 
The  debt  I  owe  thee,  Seconet,  will  pay 
Our  spoils  of  triumph  in  the  coming  fray. 
Away  !  and  watchful  of  the  signal  be  : 
We'll  drink  again  the  wine  of  victory. 

[Exeunt. 


44  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

SCENE  III.-— THE  SAME.     A  road  crossing  a  stream 
bordered  with  rocks. 

Enter  CHURCH,  emerging  from  the  forest. 

Church.  At  last ! 

If  calculation  in  the  scale  of  truth 
Were  weighed,  here  should  I  meet  the  Hadley  men; 
But  the  slack  oxen  and  the  staggering  heat 
Their  movements  tie  to  slowness.     I  am  warned 
By  silent  tongues  to  dread  this  expedition  ; 
For  more  than  once  I  stumbled  on  the  trail 
Of  prowling  redskins,  and  I  make  no  doubt 
War  parties  lurk  them  in  these  very  woods. 
Lothrop  is  rash,  and  hath  a  heady  will 
No  hand  of  caution  in  a  leash  can  hold  : 
His  Sugarloaf  success  unbonneted  his  pride 
So  that  it  leaps  at  face  of  higher  fortune. 
What's  that  ?    The  tramp  of  feet  and  wagons'  roll . 
Startle  the  drowsy  air.     I'll  reconnoitre.         {Exit. 

Enter  LOTHROP  at  head  of  troops,  and  CHURCH,  meeting. 

Church.     Good-morrow,  Captain. 

Lothrop.  Well  met,  my  hardy  forester. 

I  deemed  thee  many  leagues  away  :  what  chance 
Conducts  thee  here  ? 

Church.     No  chance  but  intent  leads  my  steps. 
Apprised  of  thy  design,  a  band  of  braves 
At  night  the  river  crossed,  and  by  a  march 
Rapid,  are  posted  in  thy  van. 

Lothrop.  Well,  let  them  come. 

Church.  What  dost  thou  say  ? 

Lothrop.  I  fear  them  not. 

Church.  Consider  this  : 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  45 

Thy  force  is  weak,  unable  to  contend 
With  the  great  arm  of  danger  in  thy  path. 
Scouts  I  despatched  to  warn  thee  of  the  risk  ; 
But  they  at  Philip's  hands  have  met  their  fate. 
Leaving  with  Mosely  my  command,  I  came 
Unheralded,  to  urge  thee  halt  thy  troops  : 
By  marches  forced  our  veteran  bands  advance, 
And  union  is  forerunner  of  success. 

LotJirop.  Church, 

Thy  trouble  pays  thee  merely  for  thy  pains. 
It  is  not  like  thy  valor's  lips  will  press, 
In  this  dull  march,  the  bloody  cheek  of  war. 
No  Indian  skulking  in  the  silent  aisles 
Of  pine  and  oak,  no  trail  of  their  swift  feet, 
Have  we  descried  since  Deerfield  from  our  sight 
In  distance  faded  :  Philip,  victory- flushed, 
Under  the  larches  of  his  native  swamps 
Reposes,  satisfied. 

Church.  Pshaw ! 

Thou  art  a  'prentice  in  his  trade  of  war. 
I  can  set  in  thine  eyes  a  commonplace 
Shall  be  the  jailer  of  thy  confidence. 
Seest  thou  this  wintergreen  with  red  cheek  crushed, 
Sprawled  on  the  ground  ?     Upon  the  hectic  leaves 
That  intoed  print,  proclaiming  in  this  hour 
Red  men  have  passed  ?     I  would  not  buy  your  lives 
At  a  pin's  worth  when  sets  to-morrow's  sun. 
Philip  is  like  the  vagrant  wind  :  to-day 
Fast  sleeping  in  the  chambers  of  the  south, 
The  path  of  air  unwounded  by  its  tread  ; 
To-morrow,  a  dark  spirit  from  the  north 
With  lightning  helmeted,  and  at  his  back 
Battalions  of  wild  storm. 


46  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Lothrop.  Enough! 

Fears  from  the  purse  of  fancy,  vain  alarms, 
I  borrow  not. 

Church.         So  they  at  Wikabaug, 
Proud  in  their  strength  and  thralls  of  confidence, 
Unqualitied,  have  in  a  bondage  gone 
No  price  can  ransom  back. 

Lothrop.  No  more!     Hang  on  my  name 

A  merited  contempt  if  I  retreat. 

Church.        Better  a  wise  retreat  than  overthrow. 

Lothrop.  Wilt  thou  have  done  ? 

Church.  My  God  ! 

Preserve  at  least  a  common  vigilance. 
Never  a  scout  thrown  out  to  guard  thy  flanks  ; 
Nor  frowns  at  this  disorder  in  the  ranks 
An  eye  of  discipline  :  precautions  are 
Breast-plates  to  war,  and  half  the  victory  win. 
Trust  my  experience  ;  for  to  him  whose  ways 
Are  kin  to  redskin  wiles  this  silence  waves 
Signals  of  danger.     Rather  I  believe 
Each  tree  will  ope  its  brown  and  furrowed  breast 
To  thrust  on  our  rapt  gaze  a  host  of  foes, 
Than  we  in  safety  stand. 

Lothrop.  Well,  thou  hast  said  : 

Doubtless  thy  fear  is  parent  to  thy  thought. 

Church.  No,  boy,  I  never  knew  the  name  of  fear: 
Its  foot  hath  crossed  the  threshold  of  men's  hearts, 
But  never  walked  in  mine.     Self-satisfied, 
Live  in  the  old  darkness,  and  on  thy  morn 
Never  a  truth-star  rise  ! 

Lothrop.  I  know  thee,  Church. 

It  is  thine  aim  to  gather  in  thy  hands 
All  power  :  no  victories  must  be  won  save  those 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  47 

Sanctioned  by  thee.     I  have  the  Essex  men, 
The  flower  of  valor,  none  of  them  ashamed 
To  speak  unto  the  enemy  in  the  gate  : 
Defeat  will  flee  before  them.     On  !  on  ! 

[  The  march  resumed. 

Enter  a  Soldier,  hastily. 

How  now  !     Thy  face  is  white  as  any  ghost's 
That  roams  through  graves  by  night.     What !  dumb 
as  death  ? 

Enter  a  second  Soldier. 
Canst  thou  speak  ? 

[Yells  arise  on  all  sides  accompanied   by   showers  of 
arrows  and  reports  of  guns  I\ 

Second  Soldier.  The  event  outstrips  my  tongue. 
Church.  An  ambuscade  !  Take  to  the  trees  ! 
Lothrop.  I  am  struck.  Oh,  thou  mine  of  wisdom 

rare  ! 
This  had  not  come  if  I  had  delved  me  there. 

\Exeunt  in  confusion. 

[  War  whoops  and  shouts.     Enter,  fighting,  whites  and 
Indians  ;  then  CHURCH  pursued  by  TOTATOMET.] 

Totatomet.     Surrender,  pale-face  !  or  thy  life  is 

bond 
Unto  the  next  stroke  of  my  tomahawk. 

Church.     Villain,  away  !     I  do  not  hold  my  life 
Subject  to  any  arm  on  earth. 

Totatomet.  White  chief,  no  nimble  heels 

May  save  thee,  but  my  friendly  wishes  can. 


48  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Church.  In  this  good  arm  alone  ! 

Totatomet.  Look  round  thee  !     See  on  every  hand 
The  bodies  of  thy  comrades  choke  the  land 
With  blood.     Mine  arms  are  drunk  with  it.     Thy 

death 
Will  not  put  in  thy  cause  a  single  breath. 

Church.       He  talks  to  me  as  one  who  values  life 
Begged  from  a  foe  in  stress  of  mortal  strife. 
Take  from  my  path  thy  damned  form  ! 

Totatomet.  Why  not  thou  ? — 

I  would  tear  out  his  flesh  at  the  red  stake 
Shred  by  shred. — Pale-face,  the  rose  of  Sogkonate 
Will  wither  at  thy  fall. 

Church.  Thou  demi-devil  ! 

Dost  thou  think  I  will  spend  a  word  to  buy 
Ages  of  captive  breath  ?     Make  way  !     These  slain 
Nerve  me  with  their  mute  eloquence. 

Totatomet.  Through  walls  of  foes 

Thy  path  to  freedom  lies. 

[They  continue  to  fight. 

Enter  PHILIP,  ANNAWAN,  and  braves. 

Philip.     Who  is  it  here  dares  live  when  we  have 

set 

Death  on  his  throne  ? 

[Strikes  down  CHURCH'S  arm,  and  the  others  secure  hint.'} 
The  pale-face  Chief  !     A  prize  worth  all  the  rest ! 
Now  guard  him  well.     Smothered  with  victims  is 
The  mouth  of  death  :  reserve  him  for  the  stake. 

Totatomet.     A  prize,  Pometacom,  a  prize  ! 
My  hatred  for  his  cup  of  torture  cries. 
Philip.     The  pale-face  pays  my  debt :  the  Chief 
is  thine. — 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  49 

My  braves,  come  round  me  ;  let  me  see  the  joy 

That  rides  in  your  wild  eyes,  and  through  the  paint 

On  your  high  cheeks  peeps  forth  in  solemn  smiles. 

This  is  the  sovereign  moment  of  your  days, 

That  crowns  your  acts  with  brass-enduring  bays. 

Like  the  tornado  launched  from  depths  of  space, 

Your  bolts  have  fallen  on  this  evil  race  ; 

And  everywhere  your  glorious  steps  have  trod 

The  pale-face  clasps  in  death  the  crimson  sod. 

Already  panic  to  their  towns  is  fled  ; 

And  if  at  night  "  Wampanoag  "  be  said, 

The  hearts  of  bearded  men  knock  at  their  side, 

As  if  the  current  of  their  veins  were  dried 

In  the  fierce  sun  of  your  immortal  hate. 

And  they  that  instant  felt  the  stroke  of  fate. 

Now  feast  ye  on  the  store  of  corn  and  wine 

This  victory  gives  ;  and  to  the  sun  divine 

Where  dwells  the  Manitou  in  lodge  of  fire, 

Lift  up  your  shouts  for  the  confusion  dire 

He  hurls  upon  your  enemies.     The  slain 

Shall  fringe  your  belts  with  deeply  valued  gain 

Of  scalps.     What  ho  !   call  in  the  straggling  few  : 

Much  has  been  done,  but  much  remains  to  do. 

Annaivan.  Sachem, 

Before  thy  face  defeat  muffles  his  own, 
As  if  thy  glance  had  turne.d  him  into  stone. 

Totatomet.     And  at  thy  side  the  form  of  victory 

flies 
To  set  thy  name  in  glory's  crimson  skies. 

Warriors.  Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! 

Church.     Philip,  thy  fortune  like  a  rocket  soars 
And  dazzles  every  eye  with  keen  success  ; 
But  in  the  puddle  of  defeat  will  fall, 


50  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

And  sorrow's  night  will  spread  her  wings  o'er  all. 
Lothrop  is  dead,  and  his  companions  brave 
Sleep  in  the  dust ;  but  from  their  timeless  grave 
Shall  spring  a  spirit  whose  relentless  hand 
Torrents  of  blood  shall  pour  on  thy  doomed  land 
In  chastisement  of  this. 

Philip.  What  ye  will  do 

Is  but  a  foetus  in  the  womb  of  time, 
The  midwife  chance  may  never  bring  to  life  : 
What  we  have  done  is  written  on  men's  minds 
To  live  as  long  as  they. — That  other  force 
Unnecessary  breathes  the  air  :   despatch 
Braves  to  report  their  numbers  and  position  : 
Your  ceaseless  hands  must  usher  them  below. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV.— SOGKONATE.  The  Seconet  Village.  En 
ter  in  procession  the  Seconet  squaws  led  by  WE- 
NONAH,  crowned  with  leaves  and  bearing  in  their 
hands  the  bladed  cornstalks  ;  they  range  in  a  circle, 
and  sing  to  the  music  of  rattle  and  drum  beat  by 
the  medicine  men. 

THE    CORN    SONG. 

I. 

When  from  the  cave  of  winter  creeps 
The  month  of  leaves,  and  joyful  leaps 

Nature  at  her  new  birth, 
We  plant  thee  in  the^mellow  earth, 
Mondamin  ! 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  5! 

2. 

The  gentle  dews  sleep  on  thy  bed  ; 
And  when  thou  liftst  thy  silken  head 

To  bathe  in  tides  of  day, 
Suns  in  pure  gold  thy  limbs  array, 
Mondamin  ! 

3- 

When  wave  thy  green  plumes  in  the  air, 
She,  famed  among  the  tribe  most  fair, 

Clothed  in  her  naked  charms, 
Weaves  spells  to  guard  thy  life  from  harms, 
Mondamin  ! 


At  midnight  hour  she  draws  around 
Circles  of  magic  on  the  ground, 
Wherein  no  mildew  blight 
Hath  power  to  pass,  nor  raven's  flight, 
Mondamin  ! 

5- 

And  when  the  month  of  falling  leaves 
Trees  of  their  heritage  bereaves, 

Maidens  and  young  men  strip 
The  armor  from  thy  golden  hip, 
Mondamin  ! 

6. 

Armor  and  spear  to  keep  at  bay 
Death  and  his  squadrons  of  decay, 
While  howls  the  winter  wind  : 
No  friend  like  thee  shall  red  men  find, 
Mondamin  ! 


52  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Wenonah.  Too  many  of  our  braves  the  foot  of  war 
Have  followed  ;  in  the  pale-face  eye  it  breaks 
Our  glass  of  loyalty.     But  there  is  one 
No  sentiment  of  honor,  glory,  pride, 
Can  prod  to  battle's  arms.     Ho,  Samponcut  ! 

Samponcut.     \Within.~\  Ah-oh-ee! 

Wenonah.  Thou  lazy  bones, 

Unclasp  the  form  of  slumber,  and  come  forth. 

Wanda.  Unless  thou  notch  a  day 

On  the  lodge  pole,  he'll  sleep  and  know  no  loss. 

Samponcut.  [  Within.}  Forbear,  ye  squaws  ! 

Wenonah.  Sweet  Samponcut, 

Divorce  thine  eyes  from  that  proud  sleep.     See,  the 

sun 

With  rosy  feet  walks  o'er  the  panting  waves  ! 
Wampum  grows  in  thy  belt  to  rise  betimes, 
And  drink  the  crystal  stream  of  morning  light. 

Enter  SAMPONCUT. 

Samponcut.  What  do  I  hear  ? 

Divine  wampum,  present  of  the  Manitou  ! 
Born  in  the  ocean,  bred  on  earth  to  be 
Giver  of  all  good  things,  I  worship  thee  ! 

Wenonah.  Think  if  thou  wert  a  brave, 

And  oared  in  glory's  sea,  thy  hands  would  bear 
Fathoms  of  this  resolute  friend. 

[Gives  him  wampum. 

Samponcut.     Oh,  perfect  belt,  I  wear  thee  in  my 

heart ! 

A  servant  thou,  silent,  tireless,  and  true, 
To  do  thy  master's  will.     He  shall  but  sit 
In  his  grim  lodge,  and  thou  wilt  take  the  world 
Captive  for  him,  and  lay  it  at  his  feet. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  53 

His  ragged  back  thy  purple  hand  will  hang 
With  the  warm  furs  ;  and  to  the  ends  of  earth 
Travel  to  find,  and  down  his  stomach  chase, 
All  luscious  things. 

Wenonah.  No  fruit  in  winter  grows  ! 

Fall  on  thy  knees,  and  study  there  a  prayer, 
If  holy  thoughts  the  cave  of  thy  low  mind 
May  venture  in. 

Samponcut.      Why,  why  ? 

Wenonah.  To  teach  thy  joints, 

Wrapped  up  in  folds  of  birch-fed  venison, 
An  honored  path. 

Samponcut.         I  will  experiment : 
Pray  the  white  Chief  buffet  with  fortune's  arm 
The  waves  of  war,  and  steer  his  bark  of  vows 
In  harbor  of  fidelity. 

Wenonah.  No,  no,  no  !     If  thou  dost, 

Both  he  and  I  are  lost :  some  other  theme. 

Samponcut.  First  tell  me,  Sachemess, 

Why  woman  in  her  life  the  wide  blue  sea 
Resembles. 

Wenonah.     Because  her  heart  is  full  of  treasure. 

Samponcut.     No    reason    there,   Wenonah ;     try 
again. 

Wenonah.  Oh,  tell  me  in  thy  wisdom. 

Samponcut.  Because  it  is 

Laden  with  craft. 

Enter  ANUMPASH. 

Wenonah.  A  crafty  answer.     Look  ! 

One  back.     Ah  me  !     What  of  Pometacom  ? 

Anumpash.     From  triumph  climbs  to  triumph, 

fresh  and  strong ; 
And  dangers  but  salute  and  kneel  to  him. 


54  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Wenonah.  What  new  exploit 

On  Squakeag  treads  ? 

Anumpash.  Squaw, 

Not  thrice  the  sun's  unwearied  foot  hath  trod 
That  sapphire  road,  since  he  in  ambush  drew 
An  Essex  regiment,  and  planted  it 
In  death's  sad  field. » 

Wenonah.  Where  ? 

Anumpash.  In  the  Nipmuck  land. 

Wenonah.     Did  none  escape  ? 

Anumpash.  Upon  thy  fingers  count 

Them  who  slipped  through  the  reeking  hand  of 

slaughter 
Grown  weary  of  its  work. 

Wenonah.  My  heart! 

Samponcut.     Oh  rare  Pokanoket! 

Wenonah.  Good  Anumpash, 

Tell  me  one  thing. 

Anumpash.  Let  the  Squaw  speak. 

Wenonah.        The  pale-face  chief  of  Aquidneck — 
Thou  knowest  him  ? 

Anumpash.  Rugged  he  is,  and  tall, 

As  oak  to  forest  trees. 

Wenonah.     Thou  dost  describe  him  well. 

Anumpash.  He  hath  an  eye 

In  which  the  gloomy  light  of  midnight  waves 
Welters  ;  a  brow  whereon  command  doth  sit ; 
And  at  his  will  no  passion  ever  tugs. 

Wenonah.     Well,  doth  he  live  ? 
Anumpash.  His  fortune  did  outscowl 

The  eye  of  death  :  amid  the  balls  that  hailed 
Their  crimson  storm,  the  bounty  of  the  skies 
Stood  sentry  to  his  life. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  55 

Wenonali.  Good  Anumpash, 

In  my  esteem  thou  art  so  richly  clad 
No  faults  of  thine  peer  out  upon  the  world. 
And  he  escaped  ? 

Anumpash.        Escaped  I  did  not  say. 

Wenonah.  A  captive  then  ? 

His  freedom  I  will  buy. 

AnumpasJi.  A  captive,  ay,  but — 

WenonaJi.  Ha ! 

A  n  u  mpash.  Bu  t — 

Wenonah.     I'll  have  no  But,  for  in  my  eye  it  is 
An  unrepentant  rebel,  in  defeat 
Still  plotting  treason  :  let  me  hear  it  not. 

Anumpash.     I  wed  my  lips  to  silence. 

Wenonah.  Who  bid  thee  that  ? 

AnumpasJi.  My  Chief  ! 

Wenonah*  Chain  not  thy  tongue 

In  silence'  cell,  but  saddle  it  with  words 
Of  golden  sound,  and  spur  them  in  mine  ear. 

Anumpash.     Then  first  I  must  unpack  my  pres 
ent  tale 
And  load  my  voice  with  fiction. 

Wenonah.     Thou  dost  forget.     It  is  of  Church 
I  order  thee  to  speak.     Go  on  ! 

Anumpash.     But  this  :  in  hand  of  our  Totatomet 
The  pale-face  fell,  and  he  is  doomed  to  die. 

Wenonah.  How  thy  virtues  fade 

In  my  opinion's  sun  !     A  snow-man  thou, 
The  churlish  hands  of  winter  in  a  night 
On  some  charred  stump  fantastical  had  built, 
To  fright  pappooses  merely.     I  ungird 
My  good  thoughts  from  thy  name,  and  in  the  wind 
Of  cold  displeasure  set  it.     Get  thee  gone  ! 


56  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

AnumpasJi.     Henceforth  I   speak   the   truth   in 

dreams  alone  ; 
Never  to  women.  \Exit. 

Wenonah.  That  liar,  is  he  gone  ? 

Bid  him  return  !  \JELxit  WANDA. 

His  fortune  had  I  gemmed 
With  pearls  of  favor,  had  his  speech  been  more 
Obedient  to  my  wish. 

Samponcut.  Why  stand  him  in  rebuke 

For  others'  deeds  ?    On  patience  lean. 

Wenonah.     He  prates  of  patience  who  in  fires  of 

love 

Hath  never  burned  !     Have  I  not  seen  and  felt 
Raging  their  stream  of  hate  in  triumph's  hour  ? 
The  cruel  honors  paid  to  victory 
In  the  dull  groan  ere  yet  the  spirit  leaps 
Into  that  sea  of  night — the  conqueror  fire 
Loading  endurance'  back  with  pelts  and  traps 
Of  unimagined  woe  that  makes 
All  other  falling  but  a  midnight  sleep. 
Fast  bound  the  prisoner  stands  so  he  can  move 
No  arm  nor  leg,  nor  scarce  the  body  writhe 
When  the  rude  arrows  sow  the  shrinking  flesh 
With  seeds  of  agony.     The  hatchets  fly 
Mindless  to  wound  but  lace  the  silver  skin  : 
As  whizzes  through  the  air  the  uncouth  steel, 
The  ecstasy  of  torture  soars  and  soars  ; 
And  camps  in  every  chamber  of  the  nerves 
The  mortal  dew.     Ages  in  minutes  crowd, 
When  it  may  chance  some  young  unpractised  hand 
With  fatal  aim  will  cast  its  tomahawk, 
Crashing  it  in  the  unprotected  brain  ; 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  57 

Then  follow  dismal  yells  as  leap  the  braves 
In  headlong  rush  to  tear  the  quivering  scalp 
Out  at  the  roots.     Oh  !  oh  !  oh  ! 

Re-enter  WANDA. 

Samponcut.  What  says  the  brave  ? 

Wanda.     He  will  not  come. 

Samponcut.  Where  is  he  ? 

Wanda.  In  his  lodge 

Oiling  his  locks  with  bear's  grease,  and  his  paint 
A-scraping  off. 

Samponcut.     Soon  will  he  gorge  and  sleep. 

Wenonah.  Leave  him  to  sullen  thoughts, 

And  counsel  me. 

Samponcut.       Have  I  not  heard  a  woman's  tears 
Softened  Powhatan  ?     To  Pometacom 
Go  :  if  his  nature  be  not  changed  by  war, 
For  thee  he  will  repeal  this  fiery  law. 

Wenonah.     I  know  he  will ;    for  under  friend 
ship's  tree 

Our  tribes  have  always  dwelt.    We  waste  the  time. 
Quick,  for  my  journey  to  Pokanoket 
Prepare  the  needful  things  ;  and  I  will  seek 
The  Meda  in  his  cave  that  he  may  shake 
His  sacred  rattles,  and  so  exorcise 
Evil,  and  prosper  my  design. 
Samponcut.  But  wilt  thou  go  alone  ? 

Wenonah.     Why  not?    I  am  the  daughter  of  a 

chief, 

In  hardships  drilled  and  follower  of  grief  ;       * 
And  chartered  as  a  warrior's  chosen  bride 
To  tread  the  path  of  danger  at  his  side. 
Samponcut.      Force  makes  the  better  plea. 
4 


58  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Wenonah.  Let  fifty  braves 

Camp  on  my  trail. 

Samponcut.          Totatomet  must  answer  this. 

Wenonah.      If  he  escape  the  lightning  blast, 
The  heavens  are  guilty. 

[Exeunt  all  but  SAMPONCUT. 

Samponcut.     That  welkined  love  !     A  hurricane 

it  is 

Bends  trees  of  opposition  'neath  its  breath, 
Tears  up  and  flings  aside  all  noxious  growths 
Of  thou-shalt-not  that  rankle  in  its  path  ; 
A  flame  in  which  each  sort  and  class  of  men 
Melt  in  that  lava  state  of  doubt  and  hope, 
Elation,  sorrow,  that  knock  round  the  heart 
Unanchored  like  a  shell  on  the  free  waves. 
No  gibble-gabble  for  thee,  friend  Samponcut ! 
Shake  thou  the  hand  of  time  for  that  the  snow 
Sprinkles  thy  hair,  and  all  thy  blood  is  cold  : 
Else  should  some  doting  lead  thee  in  the  trap 
Set  by  the  dimpled  one,  while  lords  of  wit 
Fattened  their  gibes  and  sneers  at  thy  weak  legs 
Marched  to  and  fro,  here  and  there,  up  and  down, 
To  do  the  bidding  of  some  tanned  delight 
Who  in  the  end  might  shake  scorn's  icy  drops 
Upon  the  tender  petals  of  thy  love.  \Exit. 


ACT  III. 
SCENE   I.      POKANOKET.     The  Wampanoag  village. 

Rude  music.  Enter  PHILIP,  ANNAWAN,  AGAMAUG,  AL 
DERMAN,  CANONCHET,  QUINNAPIN,  MONOKO,  TUSPA- 
QUIN,  TATOSON,  POMHAM,  and  warriors  with  CHURCH 
and  other  captives  on  one  side  ;  on  the  other,  Wam 
panoag  squaws  headed  by  WOOTONEKANUSKE,  chant 
ing  a  scalp  song. 

THE    SCALP    SONG. 
I. 

See  where  the  brave  in  triumph  come 
Proudly  to  note  of  fife  and  drum, 

With  firm,  defiant  tread  : 
The  crop  of  foes  that  grew  around 
They  sickled  on  a  bloody  ground, 

A  harvest  of  the  dead  ! 

Hail  to  the  hero  band  ! 
Pride  of  the  Kinshon  land, 
Who,  valor  hand  in  hand, 
Girded  with  glory  stand. 

2. 

With  scalps  their  girdles  thick  are  hung  ; 
Over  their  brawny  shoulders  flung 

The  trophies  of  the  slain  : 
Rewards  are  theirs  the  noble  prize  ; 
And  songs  that  climb  the  smiling  skies 

In  no  penurious  strain. 


60  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Hail  !  hail !  the  victors  hail  ! 
Braves  shall  in  terror  quail, 
Squaws  shall  for  mercy  wail, 
When  ye  your  foes  assail. 

3- 

But  some  in  arms  of  death  asleep 
Our  fruitful  eyes  shall  ever  weep, 

And  comfort  strangled  be  ; 
For  in  their  lodge  deject  and  drear 
Famine  will  stalk  with  hideous  leer, 

And  life  in  anguish  flee. 

Guard  ye  the  desolate 
Beset  by  fires  of  fate  ! 
So  shall  the  Spirit  Great 
Your  triumphs  vindicate. 

[Exeunt  some  of  the  braves  leading  the  prison 
ers,  followed  by  squaws  and  pappooses  who 
hoot  and  jeer  them,  and  brandish  knives  and 
hatchets  in  their  faces. 

Wootonekanuske.     Pometacom  ! 

Philip.  My  dear  squaw  ! 

Wootonekanuske.  What  joy 

Travels  in  my  sad  heart  when  I  again 
Hang  on  thy  lips,  and  raise  these  shadowed  eyes 
Up  in  thy  face. 

Philip.  This  moment  pays  the  debt 

Of  that  poor  time,  and  gives  me  a  discharge 
From  regiment  of  grief. 

Wootonekanuske.  Yet  could  I  drink 

Those  bitter  days  again,  to  be  but  so. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  6 1 

Philip.     Oneka,  sorrows  thou  hast  borne, 
Ills  of  so  giant  size  my  worst  of  days 
Were  pigmies  in  their  eye.     Why  did  I  feel 
Happy,  when  thou  wert  not ! 

Wootonekanuske.  Dear  Metacom, 

Give  them  no  thought. 

Philip.  Nay,  speak  ; 

For  in  my  breast  there  roams  no  sentiment 
But  turns  at  last  to  thee. 

Wootonekanuske.     Driven  from  swamp  to  swamp, 
At  night  I  lay  me  in  a  hollow  tree  ; 
Or  crouching  in  the  arms  of  savage  rocks 
Where  bears  inhabit,  wooed  the  fall  of  sleep 
To  whelm  my  bark  of  cares. 

Philip.  For  every  pang 

They  racked  thee  on,  Pometacom  will  lay 
A  settlement  in  ashes. 

Wootonekanuske.        For  food  I  searched 
The  fallen  pines  in  net  of  slow  decay 
Tangled,  on  whose  black  breast  lift  up  their  heads 
Red  wintergreens,  and  beat  into  a  pulp 
Plantain  and  dock,  and  scooped  the  crystal  spring 
Washing  the  rock's  mossed  face,  from  famine's  hand 
To  lock  my  life. 

Philip.  Heart  of  ruth  ! 

In  no  hour  when  treading  the  sunless  wilds, 
Bivouacked  on  star-lit  hills,  or  victory's  bowl 
Draining  of  blood,  hath  thy  companionship 
Been  absent  from  my  mind.     And  now  I  come 
In  triumph  robed,  and  deafed  with  glory's  voice 
That  sets  my  fame  on  such  a  pinnacle, 
Oblivion's  hand  may  never  pull  it  down, — 
To  bid  a  prouder  fortune  kneel  to  thee  ; 


62  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

And  every  grain  of  care  sown  on  thy  brow 
Plough  out  with  love. 

Wootonekanuske.        To  see  this  much -longed  day 
When  climbs  thy  wave  on  fortune's  smiling  shore, 
All  sorrow  that  hath  feasted  on  my  heart, 
And  all  the  future  holds,  chameleon-like, 
Changes  to  joy. 

Enter  METACOMET. 

Philip.  No  more  am  I 

The  servant  of  desire  ! — Metacomet ! 
Let  me  peruse  the  volume  of  thy  face, 
To  learn  the  lines  of  mine  when  first  a  boy 
In  rapture  I  did  bend  the  sinewy  bow 
To  lance  the  cheek  of  air.     It  fathers  me 
With  a  new  joy,  and  with  a  pleasing  fear, 
To  hold  thee  in  mine  arms,  and  see  thine  eyes 
Flash  in  the  light  of  mine.    Where  hast  thou  been  ? 

Metacomet.  In  the  black  swamps,  Sachem. 

Philip.  What  to  do  ? 

Metacomet.  -   To  lurk  under  the  hemlock's  shaggy 
arms,  and  shoot  mine  arrows  at  the  dismal  crows. 

Philip.  Nor  feared  the  Umpames  ? 

Metacomet.     A  Wampanoag  is  not  a  brother  to 
fear. 

Philip.     My  spirit  dwells  in  thee  !     The  nation, 

boy, 

Will  huddle  all  its  honors  on  thy  back, 
And  chieftain  thee,  if  thou  wilt  always  spurn 
The  knee  of  fear,  and  grow  to  my  desire  : 
A  sachem  shalt  thou  be,  and  at  thy  voice 
The  forest  tenantry  will  leap  to  arms, 
And  every  lodge  untreasure. 

[  They  retire  apart. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  63 

Quinnapin.  Nay,  nay,  nay  ! 

Monoko.  I  will  wager  my  string  of  scalps  to  a 
bundle  of  rushes  that  the  belly  of  his  valor  is  so 
crammed  with  unbolted  fears  that  on  the  next  trail 
he  will  hug  close  the  fireside  of  his  lodge,  and  di 
gest  in  the  sun  of  idleness  the  perilous  food  of  war 
thrust  down  the  throat  of  his  courage. 

Quinnapin.  Thy  string  of  scalps  !  How  many 
of  them  didst  thou  harvest  in  a  foeman's  skull ; 
and  how  many  have  since  been  halved  and  quar 
tered  by  thy  new  device  to  take  our  admiration 
prisoner  ?  I  would  teach  my  tongue  some  discre 
tion. 

Monoko.  Teach  thy  lechery  discretion  !  Then 
wilt  thou  not  be  chased  out  of  a  mistaken  lodge  by 
an  irate  brave,  and  be  forced  to  swear  thou  earnest 
by  thy  wounds  in  a  midnight  skirmish  with  the 
pale-faces,  to  thread  the  eye  of  thy  squaw's  suspi 
cions. 

Quinnapin.  May  the  Great  Spirit  hear  him !  Thy 
face  alone  would  strip  a  wigwam  of  its  inmates, 
by  merely  peering  under  the  deerskin  :  nothing 
shall  you  see  there  to  subdue  the  virtue  of  our 
squaws. 

Annawan.  Nushkah  !  these  pestilent  knaves 
will  quarrel  with  their  own  shadows  ;  with  the  im 
pertinent  wind  because  it  drops  a  leaf  upon  the  for 
est  trail  ;  with  the  golden-rod  because  its  color  does 
not  match  the  sky.  An  Pometacom  slap  not  the 
face  of  occasion  and  give  them  the  cud  of  another 
war  to  chew  upon,  their  blood  will  chafe  these 
banks  of  idleness  till  it  overflow  our  peace  in  con 
stant  broils. 


64  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Monoko.  A  war  for  him,  my  father  !  No  !  he 
holds  his  blood  too  precious  to  smear  that  fluid  on 
the  arm  of  valor.  Let  a  mosquito  but  sluice  out 
of  his  veins  a  rivulet  of  red,  he  bellows  like  a  calf 
and  blubbers  that  his  last  hour  is  come. 

Alderman.  It  was  the  only  cloud 

On  victory's  sky.     Say  how  it  fell. 

Agamaug.  It  came  about  in  this  way.  Many  of 
the  Nipmucks  stood  aloof,  and  dieted  their  love  of 
Pometacom  with  fears  of  the  various  bodies  of 
pale-faces  stationed  on  the  river :  they  dreaded 
that  his  good  fortune  would  stumble  in  so  steep  an 
enterprise.  But  when  Squakeag  had  stooped  the 
head  of  defiance  ;  when  Deerfield  had  been  gar 
mented  in  flames,  and  bands  of  whites  in  all  direc 
tions  ambushed  and  cut  to  pieces,  then  the  Nip- 
muck  chiefs  no  longer  drank  the  fountain  of  neu 
trality.  They  dug  up  the  hatchet ;  unbarred  their 
gate  to  three  hundred  of  our  braves  :  we  trod  in 
thought  on  ruins  of  Springfield.  That  flower  blos 
somed  not :  the  icy  hand  of  treachery  untimely 
nipped  the  bud  of  our  project.  Toto — whose  name 
be  buried  in  the  grave  of  infamy  ! — revealed  the 
plot :  our  torrent  beat  against  their  garrison  in  vain. 
But  fire  betrayed  us  not :  their  homes  and  barns 
were  clasped  to  its  red  breast,  and  that  did  com 
fort  us. 

Alderman.     Yet  say  that  Toto  for  his  fit  reward 
Sups  in  the  dust. 

Agamaug.  His  face  is  yet 

Familiar  with  the  sun. 

Canonchet.    Is  there  no  hand  in  service  to  the  cry 
Age-honored,  that  a  renegade  must  die  ? 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  65 

Pomham.     Had  I  his  throat  between  these  hands 

of  mine, 

With  Mitchi-Manitou  the  wretch  would  dine. 
Tuspaquin.     Within  his  lodge  come  never  veni 
son  ; 

No  wampum  breed  beneath  his  guilty  hand  ; 
Nor  age  camp  on  his  brow  ! 

Tatoson.     But  vengeance  shall  outstrip  the  trai- 

•   tor's  crime, 

Though  it  may  travel  slow  and  take  its  time  ; 
And  even  while  the  messenger  delays 
Remorse  still  on  the  villain's  conscience  preys  ; 
For  in  his  mind  a  thousand  deaths  he  dies, 
Ere  to  his  heart  the  fatal  arrow  flies. 

Quinnapin.  I  would  the  conscience  of  that  Nip- 
muck  should  upbraid  him  for  the  enticement  of 
much  wampum  out  of  my  wigwam,  the  which  I 
loved  as  the  she-bear  loves  her  cubs  ;  but  if  such 
stalk  grew  in  his  soil,  it  hath  been  thrice  wilted 
in  the  sun  of  depravity  till  there  is  no  unshrivelled 
arm  to  hang  a  good  resolution  on. 

Monoko.  My  heart  is  the  same  color  as  my  face. 
His  only  friends  are  the  population  of  his  hair 
whom  he  petitions  with  his  nails  to  visit  his  stom 
ach  :  he  fears  to  hunt  his  food. 

Annawan.  The  marrow  burn  your  bones  !  Will 
ye  ever  rub  the  sore  of  your  disputes  with  words, 
words,  words  ! 

Philip.  Be  ever  pupil  to  those  valiant  thoughts  ! 
But  see,  the  chiefs  ! 

Canonchet.  Pometacom, 

The  sun  behind  the  rosy  clouds  of  eve 
Stables  his  golden  steeds,  and  bids  us  go. 


66  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Philip.  Have  ye  the  spoil 

Parted  ?     Is  each  one  satisfied  ?     For  then, 
Feed  on  my  share. 

Canonchet.  If  our  desires 

Had  swelled  like  mountain  brooks  in  April  time, 
Thy  bounty  would  have  dwarfed  them  all. 

Philip.  It  tries  to  reach  to  your  deserts. 

Yet  words  of  praise  but  limp  behind  your  deeds, 
Too  slow  to  overtake  them.     In  the  face 
Of  giant  wrongs  you  threw  rebellion's  glove  ; 
And  though  your  steps  were  tangled  in  the  fears 
Thick -growing  in  the  hearts  of  lukewarm  tribes  ; 
Though  discipline  was  weeded  from  your  ranks 
By  liberty's  rough  hand,  and  treachery's  teeth 
Mangled  the  form  of  darling  enterprise  ; 
Yet  over  all  your  active  courage  climbed, 
And  on  the  hills  and  peaks  of  victory 
Planted  your  arms. 

Warriors.  Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! 

Pomham.        Chief,  to  our  lodges  we  will  take 
These  bright-haired  scalps,  and  on  their  tresses 

read, 
In  lines  of  fire,  triumphs  to  'come. 

Quinnapin.     What  sayest  thou  ?    Survives  a  sad- 
eyed  white 
Monoko's  hand  plunged  not  in  endless  night  ? 

Monoko.     Pometacom,  he  swims  in  mirth, 
But  on  the  war-path,  nothing  worth. — 
Pray  for  a  magic  wand  in  a  tree's  rind 
Viewless  to  render  thee  when  the  braves  chant 
The  mortal  song. 

Philip.        Brothers,  not  all  that  human  field 
Have  ye  yet  reaped.     The  conquests  ye  have  made 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  67 

Are  garrisoned  by  ruin,  your  captives  bound 
In  silent  forts  of  death  :  them  that  yet  live, 
Whose  breathing  yet  offends  the  sacred  air, 
We  next  push  in  the  sea. 

Warriors.        Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! 

Philip.  As  thunder  drops 

On  guilty  heads,  and  sullen  stalks  away, 
Its  mission  ended,  ye  have  scourged  your  foes 
As  swift  and  terrible.     Your  fathers'  bones 
Gloat  in  their  shrouds  of  clay  ;  and  where  he  dwells 
In  undecaying  lodge,  the  Manitou 
Smiles,  well-contented,  on  his  children's  deeds. 
But  if  be  born  a  time  when  enterprise 
Stumbles  in  path  of  unity,  defeat, 
Black-browed,  will  rise  and  tear  out  of  your  hands 
The  fruit  of  former  toils.     Be  sure,  my  braves, 
Our  freedom  is  begirt  with  loose  decay, 
If  faction  quarrel  with  authority. 
The  snake  of  discord  throttle  at  its  birth, 
Lest  it  shall  grow  a  monster  in  whose  sting 
Poison  resides  to  canker  up  the  blood, 
And  choke  the  swelling  veins  of  sovereign  sway, 
Our  cause  diseasing.     On  that  golden  face 
Lives  no  reproach.     If,  moccasined  with  flame, 
He  lead  us  back  the  pleasant  month  of  leaves, 
And  see  you  perfect,  over  this  forest  realm 
Where  pale-faces  unkennel  dogs  of  change, 
I  swear  the  red  man  shall  forever  range. 

Warriors.     Mugwump!  Mugwump!  Mugwump! 

Canonchet.  Wampanoag,  thou  art  a  man 

Whose  words  and  deeds  have  ever  kept  abreast. 
When  left  the  sun  his  wigwam  in  the  south 
And  travelled  north,  he  saw  a  hundred  towns 


68  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Where  dwelt  the  whites  in  happiness  and  power. 
Now  where  he  casts  his  eye  he  but  beholds 
Ruin  and  death.     We  have  not  strength  to  bear 
Our  heavy  pole  of  scalps  ;  no  more  for  blood 
Our  hatchets  thirst.     Yet  as  it  is  thy  will, 
We  drive  revenges  in  our  mind  again. 

Philip.  Canonchet, 

Our  foot  hath  merely  bruised  the  serpent's  head  : 
He'll  coil  him  up,  and  strike  his  venomed  fang. 
The  deer  will  not  come  back  where  pale-face  smoke 
Sullies  the  sky,  and  lays  the  forest  low. 
But  oil  your  bow  strings  in  the  shrouded  light 
Of  six  more  moons,  that  so  your  steps  may  roam 
In  freedom  over  every  hill  and  dale. 

Canonchet.  It  is  our  only  wish. 

[Exeunt  all  but  PHILIP,  ANNAWAN,  WOOTONE- 
KANUSKE,  and  METACOMET. 

Annawan.  Pometacom, 

When  shall  we  bring  that  pale-face  to  the  stake  ? 

Philip.     Not  now,  good   Annawan.     I   find   my 

heart 

Swimming  in  tide  of  gentle  thoughts,  to  bank 
Of  deep  content.     Leave  him  awhile. 

Annawan.       To-morrow   it   shall   be.     His   life 

offends 
The  eye  of  my  delight. 

Philip.  Nay,  let  us  cool  our  hate 

With  moderation's  breath.     Have  we  not  all  ? 
Oneka,  come  !  \Exeunt. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  69 

SCENE  II.— SOGKONATE.     A  cove  partly  sheltered  by 
a  thin  clump  of  low  pines. 

SAMPONCUT,  fitting  out  a  canoe. 

Samponcut.     No  spirits  in  the  bold  light  of  these 

days 

Travel  the  earth  to  do  their  weary  tasks 
When  men  are  sleeping  ! 

These  are  dainties  fit 
For   one   enskyed.     No   snails    and    earth   worms 

mashed 

In  a  vile  jelly  which  your  Puritan 
Crams  down  his  children's  throat,  but  viands  fair, 
Tribute  of  land  and  sea.     White  oysters  there, 
Fattened  in  the  still  depths  by  ocean's  hand  ; 
Here,  sober  clams  that  carry  on  their  back 
A  house  of  purple  shell ;  sand-loving  snipe  ; 
Ear-corn  roasted  in  ashes  of  red  oak. 
But  she's  in  love,  and  not  a  morsel  sweet 
Will  pass  her  lips. 

Enter  TOTATOMET. 

Now  the  Manitou 
Unknits  his  brow  ! 

Totatomet.          It  drives 
Grief  from  the  bosom  of  Totatomet, 
To  grasp  this  wrist  again. 

Samponcut.  Dwell  I  in  lodge  of  dream 

With  all  thy  limbs  intact !     No,  not  a  wound 
The  magic  of  proud  victory  hath  not  healed, 
Ere  yet  the  notes  of  battle  died  on  air. 
These  pledges  to  thy  worth  an  homage  pay, 
And  hem  thy  belt  with  glory.     One,  two,  four, 


70  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Six,  eight,  ten  !     Pride  of  the  Seconets, 

While  parched  our  lives  in  their  inglorious  bower, 

Thy  fortune  sprouted  in  a  golden  shower. 

Totatomet.  Father, 

It  washed  our  hands  with  riches. 

Samponcut.  That  Chief ! 

His  wondrous  story  mocks  a  meda's  tale 
Told  by  the  fire.     Reports  of  your  success 
Followed  upon  each  other's  heels  so  fast, 
Before  our  wonder  could  digest  the  first 
A  next  would  choke  its  throat. 

Totatomet.          Ay,  Samponcut,  it  was  as  though 
Mischance  were  lamed  and  limped  behind,  or  fell 
Before  his  glance  ;  as  if  desiring  food 
We  had  but  shot  our  arrows  in  the  air, 
Aimless  and  wild,  and  lo  !  the  unseen  deer 
Panted  on  earth. 

Samponcut.     My  matchless  brave  !    But  in  thine 

eye 

What  dulness    dwells.     Still    dost  thou    stagger 
there  ? 

Totatomet.  Dear  Samponcut, 

I  plunged  into  this  war  as  in  a  sea 
To  drown  those  thoughts  ;  but  faithful  memory 
Will  ever  pluck  them  up.     How  fares  the  Squaw  ? 

Samponcut.     How  did  the  Red  Swan  fare 
When  in  her  breast  the  magic  arrow  flew  ? 

Totatomet.  I  follow  not. 

Samponcut.  Deeply  she  pines 

Since  fortune  to  captivity  betrayed 
The  whiskered  one. 

Totatomet.     Her  thoughts  still  hold  a  truce  with 
him ! 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  71 

Samponcut.  Ay,  in  her  bay  of  love 

His  vessel  rides,  so  sheltered  and  secure, 
No  wave  of  separation,  no  wind  of  time, 
May  drive  it  hence. 

Totatomet.  But  I  will  raise  a  storm 

Shall  shatter  on  the  shoals  and  rocks  of  grief 
Her  and  her  utmost  hopes.     Mine  she  must  be. 

Samponcut.     Exile  the  wish  !     The  Sachemess  is 

proud, 

Stubborn,  and  hath  a  will  not  to  be  mined 
By  thy  desires. 

Totatomet.  Ride  to  death 

Thy  quibbles,  Samponcut :  in  serious  path 
Journeys  my  thought.     From  youth  thou  knowest 

me  : 

Grew  aught  on  branch  of  possibility 
But  I  did  climb  to  it  ? 

Samponcut.  Nay,  failure  doth  not  grow 

Under  thy  clime — I  mean,  it  is  not  writ 
In  any  wampum  thine.     Unfold  thy  plan. 

Totatomet.  Walk  then  in  the  straight  path. 

A  prisoner  in  my  hands  the  pale-face  lies. 
Yoked  to  his  new  offence  of  loving  her, 
An  ancient  grudge  I  bear  him  from  a  suit 
Growing,  in  Plymouth  to  recover  lands 
Beguiled  from  me  when  drink  had  made  my  mind 
Captive  to  folly  ;  and  I  hate  him  now 
Doubly,  for  that  by  liked  gifts  and  by  words 
More  eloquent  than  in  my  tongue  reside, 
The  favor  in  Wenonah's  eyes  I  held, 
He  throws  a  tarnish  on.     Pometacom 
Is  friendly  to  my  purpose  he  shall  burn 
In  triple  fires.     If  yet  he  drinks  the  air 


72  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

'Tis  so  I  may  wring  from  that  beauty's  heart 
Cold  drops  of  horror,  and  behold  her  face 
Droop  in  despair  when  I  make  known  his  fate 
Beyond  reprieve,  ere  thrice  that  golden  foot 
Treads  the  soft  blue,  his  limbs  are  clad  in  death. 

Samponcut.  But  she  knows  this, 

For  Anumpash  is  here,  and  hath  revealed 
Thy  dismal  plans.     And  so,  at  her  command, 
Freighted  is  this  canoe  to  bear  her  soon 
Hence  to  Pokanoket,  when  she  will  melt 
The  Sachem's  heart  with  pity  and  remorse 
To  free  the  white. 

Totatomet.    Ha!  is  it  so?  Quick!  bring  me  where 
Her  summer  wigwam  stands. 

Samponcut.  Not  I,  sweet  Seconet ! 

But  if  thy  courage  would  her  fury  brave, 
When  evening  falls  seek  thou  Pambassa's  cave. 
She  goes  to  test  the  holy  Meda's  skill 
Within  the  future's  book  to  read  the  will 
Of  the  Great  Spirit. 

Totatomet.  It  is  full  an  hour 

Before  the  wearied  warrior  of  the  sky 
Takes  off  his  gleaming  arms.     Until  that  time, 
At  thy  good  board,  thy  company  shall  lend 
Mine  ear  discourse  of  the  events  that  fell 
While  I  beneath  the  Nipmuck  skies  did  dwell. 
Samponcut.     Why,  to  be  sure  !     No  more  are  we 

content 
To  feed  on  fame  alone  !  [Exeunt. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  73 

SCENE  III. — SOGKONATE.  The  Cave  of  Pambassa, 
its  rocky  walls  hung  with  pipes,  rattles,  and  medi 
cine  bags.  On  one  side  a  gourd  lamp  on  a  shelf  of 
stone  ;  on  the  other,  a  couch  of  skins. 

.   Enter  TOTATOMET. 

Tot  at  owe  t.     I   am  in  time.     The  night  is  pure 

serene  ; 

Her  darkling  form  swims  through  the  tides  of  space 
With  gentlest  motion.     On  the  heaving  waves, 
With  silver  feet,  the  moon  in  beauty  walks. 
Down  in  her  cataract  of  splendor  sink    • 
The  dwindled  lanterns  of  the  common  stars, 
Which  in  her  absence  hang  their  solemn  lights 
On  heaven's  ramparts.     So  doth  every  grace 
Blink  its  weak  eye  before  Wenonah's  face. 
The  lord  of  light  in  his  long  march  on  high, 
Never  hath  seen  a  creature  that  can  vie 
On  terms  with  her.     And  shall  the  pale-face  snatch 
Those  charms  no  beauty  of  his  race  can  match  ? 
Out  of  these  veins  let  hooded  vampires  sluice 
My  molten  blood,  unto  my  soul  lay  siege 
Hosts  of  dismay,  battalions  of  remorse, 
When  I  forbid  it  not. — 

Pambassa,  ho  ! — 

I  had  thought  to  tread  out  this  flame,  and  make 
A  counsellor  of  pride,  but  absence  fed 
Still  more  the  wasting  fire.     My  Manitou  ! 
I  have  him  in  my  power.     At  my  command 
Wanders  his  shadow  in  the  spirit  land. — 

What  ho  !  Pambassa,  ho  ! — 
He  sleeps — 'tis  well.     In  the  uncertain  light 
This  moss  like  snowy  locks  will  seem  ;  his  robe 
5 


74  PHILIP    OF'  POKANOKET. 

That  wrapped  the  Meda's  form  ere  I  was  born, 
Will  speak  of  him — so,  so.     Now  if  I  use 
A  halting  gait,  and  let  a  rasping  cough 
Dwell  in  my  throat — uh,  uh,  uh — that  will  do. 
But  hark  !  a  step  upbraids  the  quiet  night. 
Down  on  those  skins  beyond  the  flickering  light. 
Uh,  uh,  uh  ! 

Enter  WENONAH. 

Wenonah.  Pambassa,  art  thou  here  ? 

Totatomet.  Who  thus  disturbs 

The  slumbers  of  a  dying  man  ?    Uh,  uh,  uh  ! 

Wenonah.     I   am  Wenonah,  and  it  grieves  m) 

heart 

Thou  art  unwell.     In  pity  of  thy  state, 
I  have  hung  at  thy  door  a  wampum  belt 
Shall  purchase  thee  all  simples  of  the  woods, 
To  lead  thee  back  to  health. 

Totatomet.  I  know  thee  now, 

And  thank  this  malady  that  sets  ajar 
The  door  of  death,  that  so  these  fading  eyes 
Born  in  the  glory  of  my  Sogkonate, 
May  never  see  its  fall.     Uh,  uh,  uh  ! 

Wenonah.  So  strange  thy  words, 

I  know  them  not. 

Totatomet.        Art  thou  not  she 
Who,  by  alliance  with  the  pale-face  race 
Red  men  divorce  forever  from  their  love, 
Hath  bathed  the  honors  of  the  Seconets 
In  river  of  disgrace  ? 

Wenonah.  Listen,  Pambassa. 

Totatomet.     I  do  remember  thee.     Thou  art  th< 
one 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  75 

Whose  love  is  of  a  quality  so  strange, 
It  could  not  harbor  in  our  native  stream, 
But  journeyed  far  in  quest  of  new  delights, 
And  feasted  on  a  foe. 

Wenonah.  Should  such  a  charge 

Go  with  my  life  ? 

Totatomet.          Thou  wilt  deny  it  not. 
The  thunder  birds  are  angry,  and  the  crow 
Caws  from  the  blasted  pine  his  dismal  note. 
When  rose  the  voice  of  the  Wampanoag 
Horsed  on  the  blasts  of  war,  and  the  stern  tribes 
It  marshalled  to  the  conflict  followed  on, 
Like  wave  to  wave,  the  hand  that  should  have  led, 
Turned  back  the  current  of  our  discontent 
In  the  scum  pool  of  peace.     What  dost  thou  here  ? 

Wenonah.  Father,  thou  art  ill. 

A  dark  spirit  hath  entered  in  thy  breast, 
And  robbed  thee  of  thy  voice  and  thine  old  ways  ; 
For  both  of  them  to  what  I  knew  them  once, 
Are  of  no  kin. 

Totatomet.  Uh,  uh,  uh,  uh  ! 

'Tis  thou  art  changed — not  I. 
Daughter,  I  love  thee.     When  I  love  thee  not, 
These  ninety  years,  the  mellow  fruit  of  time, 
Drop  in  the  mouth  of  death  !     But  hearken  thou  : 
The  ear  of  ancient  manners  is  abused 
By  thy  new  life. 

Before,  thou  wert  a  votaress  of  my  praise, 
Drinking  my  counsel  as  the  leaf  the  dew  ; 
But  now  a  strangeness  hath  unknit  the  coil 
That  bound  unto  my  holy  oracles 
Thy  patient  days. 
A  snake  hath  slyly  crept  amid  our  tribe, 


76  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Leaving  the  slime  of  his  detested  thoughts 
To  smear  the  tender  blade  of  thy  resolves. 
His  forked  tongue  a  venom  hath  distilled 
Into  thy  mind  to  make  it  loathe  our  ways, 
And  lead  it  'neath  the  roof  of  foreign  laws, 
The  Seconets  condemning. 

Wenonah.  If  I  have  erred, 

In  love  of  Sogkonate  I  did  it  all. 

Totatomet.  With  duty's  show 

We  often  fringe  the  cloak  of  our  desires. 

Wenonah.  Ah,  pity  me  ! 

I  am  unhappy,  father,  and  I  came 
Thy  counsel  to  implore.     The  pale-face  chief 
Is  growing  in  the  garden  of  my  heart  : 
Remonstrances  are  vain  to  tear  him  out 
My  soil  ot  love.     But  now  misfortune's  hand 
Delivers  him  to  the  Wampanoag 
Whose  sea  of  hate  will  swallow  up  his  life. 
If  thou  hast  ever  held  my  totem  dear, 
Pray  that  I  may  redeem  him  from  the  fire. 

Totatomet.  My  child, 

Seek  not  to  change  the  Manitou's  design. 
Nay,  bid  me  rattle  the  harsh  gourd  and  sing 
Ha-he-hi-hah,  and  exorcise  thine  imp  ; 
Or  make  of  him  a  figure  in  pine  bark, 
And  place  it  at  the  door  for  our  young  men 
To  shoot  their  arrows  at.     Shake  off  this  love. 
Curb  not  the  fiery  heart  of  Sogkonate 
Whose  spirit  frets  against  these  bars  of  peace, 
And  censures  thee.     Say  to  that  alien  race 
That  urges  thee  to  stab  our  brother's  hope, 
Ye  milk  the  ram,  and  to  you  we  can  be 
But  instruments  of  death.    From  thy  thought's  wall 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  77 

Tear  down  the  image  of  that  soon-no-more 
Pale-face  who  turned  thy  reason  inside  out, 
Dressing  the  worst  in  garb  of  the  best  cause  ; 
And  in  thy  favor  hang  that  brave  of  braves, 
Totatomet.     The  god  is  speaking. 

Wenonah.  Methinks  a  devil  speaks,  and  not  a  god. 
The  frayed  and  ravelled  suit  of  him  whose  name 
Never  again  will  march  upon  my  tongue, 
Is  cast  off,  and  no  words  may  weave  it  up. 
I  would  abhor  to  lay  on  me  a  yoke 
So  to  subdue  the  resolute  heart  I  bear. 
My  soul  is  free  as  air,  and  as  the  sea 
Boundless,  and  ever  shall  its  love  bestow, 
False  priest,  on  whom  it  please,  and  when,  and 
where. 

Totatomet.  Poison  that  in  the  mandrake 

Dwells,  blow  thy  blood  !     Now  patience  from  my 

breast 

Exiled  shall  be  ;  and  on  thy  desperate  will 
Ride  rude  command.     Know  I  am  one 

[  Throwing  off  his  disguise. 
Whose  enterprise  bends  not  its  stately  head 
To  foot  of  faltering.     Squaw,  to  my  lodge 
Now  thou  must  go  ! 

Wenonah.     {Recoils  in  horror.]         Totatomet  ! 

Totatomet.  Think  not  to  'scape  my  hand. 

I  have  in  this  the  warrant  of  the  tribe  ; 
And  thy  disdain  shall  balk  it  not. 

Wenonah.     Back !  back  !  I   say,  unworthy  Seco- 

net ; 
And  with  no  touch  profane  me. 

Totatomet.  Yield  thee,  Squaw. 


78  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Chafe  not  the  swollen  current  of  my  blood 
Which  else  shall  break  in  fury  through  thy  bar. 

Wenonah.  Brave,  art  thou  mad  ? 

Put  up  thy  knife,  or  turn  it  on  thyself, 
Such  treason's  grim  and  old-time  penalty. 

[He  shrinks  back  overawed  by  her  looks. 
Ay,  let  it  search  the  caverns  of  thy  breast 
With  murderous  hands,   and  where  it   finds  thy 

heart 
House  in  it  deep  as  death.     I  fear  thee  not. 

Totatomet.     Then  fear  for  him,  the  jewel  of  thy 

soul 

Torn  from  its  prosperous  setting  by  my  hand. 
Deep  shalt  thou  drain  the  hot  and  bitter  cup 
Thy  folly  brews,   while  the  face    of    thy  proud 

thoughts 

Grovels  in  ashes  of  remorse.     Bethink, 
My  haughty  Squaw,  now  lighted  is  the  fire 
Whose  crimson  jaws  all  greedy  shall  lick  up 
His  sizzling  stream  of  flesh.     I  will  be  there  ; 
And  I  will  teach  the  eager  knots  of  pine 
The  lexicon  of  hate  from  A  to  Z, 
So  anguish  on  him  peer  with  hellish  looks  ; 
And  tell  him  she  who  flattered  him  with  love, 
Is  author  of  his  woe.     Proud  woman-chief, 
Already  do  I  hear,  and  so  mayst  thou, 
The  groans  that  split  his  heart,  and  drag  it  down 
Abysses  of  despair  and  gulfs  of  woe, 
Till  it  shall  riot  in  such  agony, 
In  wildness  and  in  frenzy  he  will  call 
The  still  and  gracious  death.  [Exit. 

Wenonah.  What  have  I  done  ? 

Betrayed  him  to  his  death  ?     No,  no,  no,  no  ! 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  79 

Fetters  that  Seconet  can  never  forge 
My  credit  with  the  great  Chief  may  not  break. 
His  threats  but  arm  me  in  my  new  design 
With  stronger  resolution.     I  will  pray 
That  all  is  well,  but  oh  !  how  cold  'tis  here. 
Ere  the  Great  Bear  under  the  starry  pole 
Crouches,  I  must  be  gone.     Pometacom 
When  he  struck  the  war-post  did  never  bid 
Farewell  to  mercy.     Under  his  cold  mien 
A  lenient  nature  flows.     He  will  stamp  out 
The  cruelty  of  the  other. — Samponcut ! — 
No  monsters  lurk  in  the  dark  ocean  caves 
Fierce  as  a  lover  scorned. — Ho,  Samponcut ! 

[Exit. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I. — POKANOKET.  The  Wampanoag  village.  A 
council  of  chiefs  :  ANNAWAN,  TUSPAQUIN,  TATOSON, 
ALDERMAN,  and  AGAMAUG.  Braves  and  squaws. 

Annawan.  Where  is  the  Seconet  ? 

Agamaug.     The  path  between  your  village  and 

his  lodge 
Is  not  a  short  one,  Annawan. 

Annawan.  He  should  be  here  to  taint 

This  rawest  fancy  of  Pometacom 
With  a  hot  opposition. 

Tuspaquin.  Nay,  let  the  Sachem  pluck 

This  plume  from  mercy's  wing  :  enough  remains. 

Annawan.  Nushkah  !  had  I  my  wish  at  one 

black  stake 

Would  I  bind  every  white  whose  foot  hath  scorched 
The  red  man's  land,  upon  the  wings  of  nairie 
Waft  them  away. 

Alderman.        The  Sachem's  heart  is  soft  : 
When  mercy  knocks  his  kindness  takes  her  in. 

Annawan.     I  wish  to  die  before  my  heart  is  soft. 
He  is  the  bravest,  wisest  of  the  whites, 
And  his  escape  revives  the  drooping  stalk 
Of  their  bad  cause.     Only  his  death  can  bolt 
Our  door  of  safety. 

Enter  PHILIP. 
Tatoson.  The  Sachem  comes. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  8l 

Philip.     All  hath  been  settled  save  the  fate  of  him 
Whose  valor  anchors  in  our  stream  of  love 
His  forfeit  life.     Kekamah,  bring  him  in  ! 

[Exit  a  brave. 

I  think  thee,  Alderman,  thy  brother's  shade  : 
The  grave  alone  can  part  you. 

Alderman.  No,  my  chief, 

Not  even  that. 

Philip.          Hi,  hi,  your  friendship's  eye 
Outstares  the  love  of  women. — 

CHURCH  is  led  in. 

Set  him  there  !     Chiefs, 
If  he  will  bolster  up  his  wounded  lot 
With  pillow  of  our  life,  shall  we  refuse 
To  taste  the  fruit  ?— 

Pale-face,  what  hath  thy  dauntless  soul  to  say 
Why  death  should  not  inherit  now  thy  clay  ? 

Church.     It  is  the  chance  of  war  :  I  am  content. 

Philip.      Thy  heart  is  brave,  never  to   danger 

bent. 

Foremost  in  ranks  of  battle  hast  thou  fought ; 
And  in  life's  sea  the  pearl  of  honor  sought. 
That  life,  unlike  thy  false  perfidious  race, 
The  garment  of  an  honest  heart  doth  lace  ; 
And  though  thy  musket  hath  our  death-song  sung, 
Our  justice  grants  thou  art  no  double-tongue. 

Church.     Philip,  I  thank  thee.     If  my  race  be 

run, 
Dying,  I  own  in  fairest  combat  won. 

Philip.  White  Chief, 

Large  ransom  hath  been  offered  for  thy  life 
Won  by  Totatomet  in  equal  strife  ; 


82  PHILIP     OF    POKANOKET. 

But  he,  choked  by  the  fumes  of  hatred  deep, 
Freely  can  breathe  but  in  thine  endless  sleep. 
His  prisoner  thou  ;  but  means  are  in  my  power, 
If  so  I  will,  to  stay  thy  fatal  hour. 

Church.     I  listen  to  thy  words,  Wampanoag. 

Philip.  Pale-face, 

The  red  man's  life  is  dignified  and  free  : 
We  worship  one  above  and — liberty. 
Our  forest  towns  no  moats,  no  ramparts  pen  ; 
But  guarded  by  a  living  wall  of  men 
They  stand.     Our  streets  no  thieves,  no  beggars 

tread. 

In  our  domain  no  jail  lifts  up  its  head. 
For  others'  ease  no  lowly  classes  toil : 
All  live  joint  tenants  of  the  common  soil. 

Warriors.  Ugh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! 

Philip.  Pale-face, 

The  sickle  of  this  war  hath  mowed  our  braves 
*  In  swaths  of  blood  down  to  their  timeless  graves  ; 
But  not  in  vain — never,  I  say,  in  vain  : 
For  where  their  forms  stalk  through  the  sullen 

tomb, 

Four  pale-face  spirits  glad  them  in  the  gloom. 
We  welcome  to  our  ranks  the  manly  heart 
Who  at  our  feast  of  glory  craves  a  part. 
Thine  is  an  arm  in  valor's  eye  so  dear, 
Our  tribes  give  it  the  worship  of  their  fear. 
In  this  wide  world  thou  standest  now  alone, 
Thy  fate  in  hands  where  mercy  is  unknown. 
But  shall  we  squander  in  the  greedy  grave 
The  wealth  of  prowess  would  our  fortunes  lave 
In  triumph's  sea,  enlisted  in  our  cause  ? 
Or  shall  we  say  :  submit  thee  to  our  laws  ; 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  83 

Come  to  our  lodges,  free,  embrace  our  life  ; 
Among"  our  black-haired  daughters  take  a  wife  : 
A  chieftain  be,  and  at  our  council-fire 
Hear  thy  voice  honored  like  the  tribal  sire  ? 

[Confused  cries  from  the  band,  some  in  approval,  others 
in  opposition.] 

Annawan.  Cram  down  his  throat 

A  fist  of  dust ! 

Philip.  A  cup  of  calmness  drain  ! — 

Pale-face,  bethink  thee  if  our  mercy  throw 
This  rope  of  safety,  wouldst  thou  clutch  at  it  ? 

Church.  What's  that  ? 

Wandered  my  thoughts  in  fields  of  happier  days. 
If  it  be  nothing  that  will  strip  my  faith 
Naked  to  the  world's  shrewd  blast,  I  will  lead 
Mine  inclinations  in  it. 

Philip.  Thou  must  become  as  one  of  us. 

Each  fort  of  old  affection  and  regard 
Must  be  dismantled,  and  forgetfulness 
Creep  over  them  ;  thy  zeal  and  purposes 
Cry  "  Hail  "  to  our  resolves  ;  what  we  decide 
Graft  on  thy  will ;  say  to  thy  former  self 
A  last  good-night ;  and  all  the  freight  of  hope 
Thy  bosom  bears,  land  on  our  shore. 

Church.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Philip.     Why  dost  thou  laugh  ? 

Church.  And  if  I  say  : 

Pokanoket,  I  will  do  this,  and  so 
Hoodwink  suspicion,  till  I  pluck  a  chance 
Out  of  occasion's  hand  to  shake  thy  dust 
From  off  my  feet,  shall  I  not  then  be  free  ? 


84  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Philip.        The  penalty  is  death 
But  to  attempt  it. 

Church.  Lip-service  is  not  mine. 

Philip,  I  cannot  marry  to  thy  tribe 
Warring  with  mine  and  in  their  curses  set, 
My  true  devotion.     Let  it  end. 

Philip.  Pale-face,  on  no  slight  cause 

Pull  down  thy  mortal  house. 

Church.     Tempter,  away  !     Should  I  with  dull 

apostasy 

Mangle  my  early  creed,  baptize  mine  arms 
Most  foully  in  my  dear  companions'  blood, 
Would  they  not  set  a  stigma  on  my  name, 
And  shake  my  memory  from  their  branch  of  love  ? 
Or  if  they  should  condone  my  deepest  fall, 
And  dredge  mine  honor  out  of  treason's  sea, 
How  shall  I  answer  to  the  inward  voice  ? 
Can  I  flee  from  it  to  the  haunts  of  men  ; 
Or  in  the  noblest  school  of  solitude 
Plead  poverty  of  will  ?    All  would  be  vain  ! 
It  would  pursue  me  with  unflagging  step 
Around  the  earth  ;  embitter  every  hour  ; 
And  make  a  grave  seem  gentle  place  of  rest. 
Teach  me  another  way. 

Enter  TOTATOMET. 

Philip.     I  know  of  none. 
Totatomet.  Come,  let  the  fire 

Feel  for  his  heart. 

Philip.  Art  thou  resolved 

To  court  this  darkness  ? 

Church.  I  think  of  what  I  am, 

f  Sachem,  and  it  forbids  my  faltering  now. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  85 

Hast  thou  not  heard,  I  have  a  vow  in  heaven 

Recorded  in  the  angel's  book  where  I 

Turn  every  day  my  thought  to  read  it  there. 

That  oath  was  sworn  above  the  mangled  forms 

Of  all  my  dear  below,  where  they  were  found 

In  ruins  of  our  home,  the  satan  work 

Of  redskins  such  as  ye,  when  they  let  loose 

Hell  on  the  earth.     If  I  a  compact  seal 

With  thy  destruction,  from  these  sides  would  rot 

Mine  arms  forsworn,  and  on  my  perjured  head 

The  lightning  fall.     No,  Philip,  no  ! 

Alderman.     If  Providence  hath  no  spies  out, 
Minutes  may  span  his  rivulet  of  life. 

Agamaiig.  I  see  his  limbs 

Mantled  in  fire. 

Annawan.       I  thank  the  Manitou 
I  see  this  day,  if  it  be  so  ! 

Church.     Oh  Sogkonate  !  what  happiness 
Circled  thy  name  ! — No,  Philip,  I  may  not 
Unclothe  my  character  to  that  bleak  change. 
Thou  mayst  but  try  me  to  my  fall,  then  pour 
Contempt  and  laughter  on  me.     I  will  strive 
To  guide  me  by  the  chart  the  rarest  use 
In  desert  of  our  life  ;  cling  to  my  cross, 
Clad  in  a  mood  that  throttles  accidents 
And  binds  the  feet  of  change. 

Philip.  Thou  must  not  say 

I  jested  with  thy  state  ;  but  if  thou  mask 
Under  this  choice  a  purpose  to  escape, 
Strangle  the  thought.     Yet  if  thou  hast  to  ask 
Aught  that  the  gorge  and  stomach  of  our  place 
May  not  strain  at,  let  me  but  hear. 

Church.     My  fortune  has  not  run,  Wampanoag, 


86  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Along  with  thine,  but  stumbled  by  the  way. 

Renown  and  triumph  wait  upon  thy  steps, 

And  flatter  thee  with  visions  of  a  time 

When  all  the  settlements  shall  prostrate  lie 

Ruined,  beneath  thine  arm  ;  the  thirsty  earth 

Lap  up  the  blood  of  the  last  colonist ; 

While  o'er  the  sites  where  they  have  reared  their 

homes, 

The  green  foot  of  the  old  primeval  woods 
In  silence  creeps.     Sachem,  let  not  thy  thought 
Follow  such  false  trail,  an  unskilled  hunter  there. 
Soon  is  this  voice  the  bride  of  silence  ;  hence 
A  prophecy  sits  in  my  final  words  : 
The  Saxon  face  is  set  against  the  sun, 
And  follows  where  his  golden  steeds  do  run. 
Disasters  have  but  built  our  purpose  strong 
Rather  to  perish  than  submit  to  wrong. 
Yet  have  we  not  put  forth  our  latent  power  ; 
The  lion  in  us  hath  not  had  his  hour  ; 
But  when  we  rise  in  all  our  might  of  wrath 
Swept  are  our  foes  like  chaff  before  our  path. 

Annawan.  Thy  boasting  now  ! 

Warriors.  To  the  stake  !  to  the  stake  ! 

Philip.     Thy  weakness  shall  be  passport  to  thy 

tongue 

To  pass  the  sentinel  of  modest  doubt. 
Pale-face,  I  friended  thee  and  put  a  staff 
Into  thy  hands  to  lead  thee  out  of  death  ; 
But  thou  hast  held  thee  on  a  different  way, 
Saluting  not  the  face  of  my  design. 
The  braves  they  say  thy  life  is  forfeited. 
No  fault  is  mine  :  thy  blood  be  on  thy  head  ! 

Warriors.  To  the  stake  !  to  the  stake  ! 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  87 

Church.     Words    will    but    spend    my    fleeting 

breath  in  vain. 

A  renegade,  my  name  would  die  amain  ; 
But  dying  faithful  it  shall  live  again. 

[Exit,  between  the  guards. 
Philip.     Totatomet,  be  thine  to  set  the  stake. 
Brave  Seconet,  much  do  we  owe  thine  arm  : 
To-night  thy  hate  embraces  its  revenge. 

Totatomet.     Thy  thanks  do  set  a  glory  on  my 
deeds.  \Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. — POKANOKET.  An  open  space  in  the  centre 
of  the  Wampanoag  village,  with  a  stake  set  up  sur 
rounded  by  fagots  and  brushwood.  Time,  night ; 
around,  pine  knots  throw  a  lurid  light. 

Enter  PHILIP,  ANNAWAN,  TOTATOMET,  TATOSON,  AGA- 
MAUG,  ALDERMAN,  warriors  and  squaws. 

Philip.     Nay,  policy  was  parent  of  that  wish  : 
So  true  a  branch  engrafted  on  our  tree 
Had  dropped  us  fruit  of  choicest  victory. 

Annawan.     Better  this   way.     The    braves    for 

vengeance  cry, 

And  with  one  voice  demand  the  pale-face  die. 
The  red  men's  blood  his  ruthless  hand  hath  shed 
Forms  in  a  cloud  to  burst  upon  his  head  ; 
And  freer  shall  we  breathe  when  such  a  foe, 
Harmless  for  aye,  sits  with  the  shades  below. 

Philip.     It  likes  me  not  to  bathe  in  useless  blood. 
To  no  man  will  my  mounting  spirit  yield 
When  battle  rages  in  the  crimson  field  ; 


88  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

But  when  his  wings  are  drooped  in  victory, 
From  savage  thoughts  my  mind  is  purged  and  free. 

Annawan.  Pometacom, 

Wilt  thou  not  own  this  gift  is  due  thy  tribe  ; 
And  due  the  allies  who  have  spent  their  blood 
To  purchase  thee  dominion  ? 

Philip.  Good  Annawan, 

Their  minds  dyed  in  the  vat  of  our  fierce  trade, 
Hold  not  the  scales  in  which  my  thoughts   are 

weighed. 

The  present  moment  bounds  their  little  day, 
Moulding  their  souls  beneath  its  tyrant  sway. 

Annawan.     Hast  thou  forgot  how  oft  the  whites 

betrayed 

The  character  of  justice  they  parade  ? 
Our  braves  when  captured  in  the  stricken  field, 
Do  they  to  mercy  or  to  ransom  yield  ? 
Ask  of  the  winds  that  kiss  the  trunkless  heads 
Grimly  their  hellish  hands  nail  up  on  poles 
To  guard  the  reeking  gates  of  Plymouth  town  ! 
Ask  of  the  waves  dandling  in  azure  arms 
The  guilty  prows  that  speed  across  the  seas, 
Bearing  our  brothers,  squaws,  and  pappooses 
To  hopeless  bondage  in  the  red-skyed  south 
Where  life  is  bound  in  caves  of  bitterness  ! 
Nushkah  !  mercy  shown  to  such  as  these  is  crime 
To  thee  and  thine,  and  mocks  the  austere  time. 

Enter  TUSPAQUIN. 

Philip.     What  news  comes  on  thy  haste  ? 

Tuspaquin.  The  Plymouth  father  sends 

A  flag  of  truce,  and  offers  to  exchange 
Ten  red  men  for  the  life  of  Captain  Church. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  89 

This  failing,  they  will  make  our  brothers'  breast 
A  grave  for  lead,  and  sell  the  captured  squaws 
Slaves  in  that  land  where  sleeps  the  winter  sun. 
Besides,  he  has  called  out  all  that  remain 
Of  young  and  old  to  gird  their  armor  on  ; 
Recruits  from  Shawmut  begs,  and  all  the  towns 
Spared  by  the  fire,  with  frenzied  hands  to  roll 
Back  our  great  wave  ;  the  while  on  bended  knees 
He  prays  the  bullet  into  Philip's  heart. 

PJiilip.  The  white  flag  back,  and  let  me  see 

Nothing  but  red  !    I  from  this  moment  tear 
All  softness  from  my  nature,  and  will  be 
Hard  as  the  granite,  hungry  as  the  sea. 

Annawan.  Have  I  not  said  ! 

Philip.     Enough  !  He  shall  not  live  another  day 
Lest  deeper  wrongs  our  weak  forbearance  pay. 
What  ho  !  the  prisoner  ! 

CHURCH  is  led  in. 

Now  bind  him,  braves. 

[He  is  bound  to  the  stake. 
Totatomet.  Use  no  weak  thongs  ! 

Agamaug.     His  looks  are  downcast,  and  his  mind 

is  dyed 
Pensive,  to  color  of  his  poor  condition. 

Alderman.  This  is  the  test 

That  writes  his  name  on  pages  of  the  air, 
Or  carves  it  on  tradition's  stone. 

Tatoson.  Listen ! 

He  prays  in  low  voice  to  his  nation's  god 
Whose  arm  can  aid  him  nevermore. 

Church.     Alack  the  day  !     How  ill  my  sternness 
weighed 


90  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

The  body's  power  to  stand  against  that  sleet 
Of  torture,  bruising  and  beating  down  to  shame 
The  tendrils  of  the  will :  the  gauntlet  run 
Down  that  black  avenue  with  wild-eyed  beasts 
Lined,  whose  clubs  like  fire-stones  pelted  my  back, 
Till  fortitude  stooped  to  the  foot  of  anguish  ! 
Oh  God  !  thy  grace  supplant  my  feeble  will 
Bound  captive  to  the  chariot  of  pain  ; 
And  like  a  rock  beat  back  the  grievous  surge 
That  saps  this  fort,  for  worse  assault  must  come  ! 
Thou  light  and  refuge  in  the  night  of  life, 
Send  from  the  heaven   of  heavens   where  thou 

dost  sit 

Enthroned  in  pity  with  the  cherubim, 
A  portion  of  the  deep  spiritual  power 
That  pulses  through  the  universe,  and  sways 
Unmitigate  the  hearts  of  favored  men  ; 
So  in  this  tempest  I  may  bear  me  well, 
And  pass  a  stranger  in  the  house  of  fear. 
Be  not  my  sins  remembered  to  my  cost  ; 
But  think  that  I  have  trod  the  thorny  path, 
The  precipice  of  duty  with  a  zeal, 
Not  measured  by  thy  purpose  infinite, 
But  such  as  'neath  the  purest  sun  of  faith 
Could  grow  in  passion's  field. 

Enter  WENONAH. 

A  little  more, 

I  must  stand  in  the  solemn  court  of  death, 
And  all  mine  acts  by  thine  impartial  eye 
Be  judged.     If  I  have  plainly  dealt  with  men  ; 
If  I  thy  sleeve  of  patience  have  not  frayed 
And  ravelled  out  by  violence  and  sin, 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  91 

Let  thy  strong  arm  support  me  in  this  stress  ; 
Let  thy  good  cheer  be  with  me  to  the  end. 

Totatomet.  A  truce  to  this  delay  ! 

Pile  on  the  fagots  :  let  the  dance  begin  ! 

Wenonah.     False  Seconet !  commend  thy  furiate 

soul 

To  the  pure  patience  ! — Braves,  rest  ye  awhile  ! — 
Pometacom,  wake  from  this  demon  dream, 
And  snatch  thy  mercy  from  the  gulf  of  blood 
Where  it  is  drowned.     If  ever  I  have  done 
Service  to  thee,  give  order  to  thy  braves 
To  cut  the  withes  that  do  the  pale-face  bind, 
And  set  him  free. 

Philip.  Thou  ravest,  Squaw. — 

Take  her  away  ! 

Annawan.  Come  !  come  ! 

In  realm  of  old  Pokanoket 
We  do  not  know  command. 

Wenonah.  Unhand  me,  Chief  ! 

And  in  this  mood  cross  not  my  path. 

Annawan.     Nay,  here  thou  must  weed  out 
That  vice  of  temper,  and  obey. 

Wenonah.     Thou  gray  iniquity  !  it  is  thy  hand 
That  leads  his  purpose  to  this  horror's  verge. — 
Sachem,  a  Seconet  appeals  to  thee, 
Head  of  a  tribe  that  ever  smoked  with  thine 
The  calumet  of  peace. 

Philip.  Didst  thou  not  in  thy  lodge 

Sit  still,  and  send  my  braves  away  ? 

Wenonah.  Pometacom, 

It  tortures  me  to  see  that  stony  look 
Where  no  hope  dwells. 


92  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Totatomet.     Beware,  Sachem,  she  hath  a  tongue 
Crooked  as  the  prone  snake's. 

Wenonah.  Wrap  him  not  up 

Within  thy  favor's  cloak,  for  he  hath  sworn 
Against  my  life.     Sachem,  lend  me  thine  ear  : 
If  I  have  ever  harbored  in  my  mind 
Friendship  or  fear  for  aught  in  Plymouth  sails, 
I  scuttle  it  in  waters  of  my  hate. 
Five  hundred  braves  whose  ears  the  music  drink 
Of  ocean's  waves  that  foam  on  Sogkonate, 
Shall  hear  with  thee  a  sterner  music  breathe. 
A  coat  of  wampum  will  I  weave  for  thee, 
Whose  price  shall  buy  an  hundred  stand  of  arms  ; 
And  I  will  pray  the  perfect  one  above 
To  hold  thee  in  his  hand,  and  victory  drop 
Forever  on  thy  path. 

Philip.  When  I  have  set  my  foot 

On  all  mine  enemies,  she  offers  this  ! — 
Will  ye  not  light  the  fire  ? 

Wenonah.  Hold  ye  ! — Take  all  I  have, 

And  grant  me  only  this.     Pometacom, 
I  turn  me  from  thy  soul  in  fury  mired, 
And  pawing  vainly  up  the  bank  of  truth, 
Unto  thy  nobler  self  in  reason's  chair 
Seated,  and  made  the  guest  of  mercy.     Chief, 
Thy  heart  hath  known  the  painful  joy  of  love  ; 
Counted  hast  thou  the  minutes  to  the  time 
When  thy  fond  eyes  should  mirror  back  the  light 
Which  in  ethereal  beauty  seemed  a  part 
Of  that  pure  sky  that  hangs  above  our  heads  : 
Each  minute  shackled  with  the  chain  and  ball 
Of  hours  ;  each  hour  slow  pacing  to  his  end 
As  if  he  bore  upon  his  back  a  day. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  93 

Call  up  the  ghosts  of  those  departed  days  ; 

Call  from  the  grave  of  time  those  dear  delights  ; 

And  they  shall  plead  for  me  with  thunder  tongues  ; 

And  in  the  race  unto  thy  favor's  goal, 

Outstrip  my  words  unwinged  by  eloquence, 

As  nimble  deer  outstrip  the  slow-paced  bear. 

Turn  not  thy  face  away  !     Here  bends  a  knee 

Which  never  yet  the  lowly  earth  hath  kissed 

In  supplication  ;  but  sachems  to  it 

Have  bowed,  and  deemed  their  dignity  increased  : 

Here  do  I  kneel,  and  with  my  suitor  breath 

Laden  with  rich  devotion  to  thy  cause, 

His  freedom  buy. 

Philip.     Arise  !     I  wonder  thou  shouldst  plant 

thy  love 
Within  a  soul  that  hates  thy  native  race. 

Wenonah.      Let  him  who  never  owned  the  house 

of  flame 
Where  dwells  the  human  heart,  my  action  blame. 

Philip.  I  am  resolved. 

Wenonah.     Nay,  Sachem,  here  I  stay  till  thou 

dost  turn 

Thy  passion  out  of  doors,  and  graces  peep, 
Like  cherubs,  from  thine  eyes. 

Philip.  Plead  not  for  him  ! 

His  life  stood  in  his  clutch  if  he  renounce 
The  service  of  the  English  arms,  and  line 
His  fortune's  cloak  with  honors  of  our  race  : 
He  trod  upon  the  bosom  of  this  chance, 
As  who  should  say,  freedom  and  ampler  breath 
Grew  nobler  in  the  sunless  fields  of  death. 

Wenonah.  Give  to  my  love 

What  he  denies  to  pride. 


94  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Philip.  No ! 

I  am  not  one  whose  perfect  plans  are  pushed 
And  jostled  from  their  path  by  woman's  whim  ; 
Nor  would  I  bind  an  honor  on  my  brow 
But  what  is  harvested  in  fields  of  war : 
I  shall  not  change. 

Wenonah.  Is  every  feeling  of  thy  breast 

Mortgaged  to  hardness?     Power,  I  deem,  should 

dwell 

In  lodge  of  clemency,  no  hand  stretch  forth 
To  nature's  tyranny.     Plucked  is  thy  fame 
From  tree  of  terror  ;  it  will  shrivel  up 
And  moulder  on  thy  tomb  :  but  let  thy  thoughts 
Soar  to  the  heaven  of  mercy,  thou  art  indeed 
The  first  man  of  the  age. 

Philip.  Wenonah,  I  have  said. 

There  is  no  inch  of  softness  in  my  breast 
For  mercy's  roots  to  grow  :  my  warriors  slain, 
Their  squaws  and  children  banished  in  the  sea, 
Would  rise  with  shadowy  hands  and  cut  it  down, 
Pity  is  fled  from  earth,  and  in  the  clouds 
Maketh  her  home  with  spirits  of  the  dead. 

Wenonah.     Where  am  I  ?    Are  those  stars  whose 

tranquil  eyes 

Should  pity  me,  not  mock  my  great  despair  ? 
Are  those  the  beings  of  my  flesh  and  blood 
Who  should  thrust  in  between  my  woe  and  thee, 
A  guard  of  love  ?     Like  figures  carved  in  rock 
They  stand,  with  lightnings  wreathed  around  their 

brow. 

Ye  worse  than  wolves  that  not  devour  their  own  ! 
Had  I  the  braves  I  vainly  offered  thee, 
I  had  commanded,  and  ye  would  obey. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  95 

Pometacom,  thou  art  dressed  in  fierce  blood — 
Blood  spouting  from  thine  eyes,   thine  ears  and 

mouth, 

And  in  hot  currents  flowing  to  the  ground, 
And  leaping  up  in  columns  to  thy  head, 
And  surging  like  a  sea  in  dull  eclipse, 
Till  thou  art  all  one  crimson  wave.     Away  ! 
To  liberty  my  hand  will  carve  thy  way. 

[Dashes  through  the  crowd  to  the  stake,  and  cuts   the 
thongs  which  bind  the  prisoner^ 

Totatomet.  The  witch 

Loosens  his  bands — he's  free  ! 

Wenonah.     Take  thou  this  knife — I  have  another 

here. 
Flee  !  I  will  follow. 

Church.     Make  way  !     A  death  or  two  hangs  in 

this  blade. 

I  have  new  strength,  and  he  who  bars  my  way 
Petitions  death.     Wenonah,  leave  me  now. 

Wenonah.         Nay,  I  will  go. 
Be  quick,  or  they  surround  thee. 

Totatomet.  Thy  fortune  at  the  stake 

Laughs,  but —  [Hurls  his  tomahawk* 

Philip.  A  nerveless  arm  ! 

Ho  !  seize  him,  braves  ! 

Church.     For  love   of  me,   Wenonah,  leave  the 

fray. 
Philip  must  pardon  thee.     If  I  escape — 

[  War  whoops  resound  on  all  sides,  and  the  Indians  rush 
to  seize  CHURCH,  who  strikes  down  several  and  turns 
to  flee.  J 


96  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Totatomet.  What !  doth  he  go  ? 

Furies  that  ride  the  scorching  blasts  of  hell 
Fondle  this  hand  !  [Stabs  WENONAH. 

Wenonah.     Thou  spotted  heart !     The  ashes  of 

remorse 
Strangle  thy  prayers  ! — Fly,  Church,  and  live  ! 

Church.  I  curse  me  that  I  live  till  now. 

Lighter  than  air,  yet  heavier  far  than  fate, 
Rest  on  my  heart,  and  in  its  chamber  dark 
Thy  perfect  soul  shall  sit  and  rule  my  thoughts 
Till  death  befriends  me  too.     I  cannot  go, 
And  see  thee  nevermore. — Who  follows,  dies  ! 

[Takes  up  WENONAH  in  his  arms,  and   disappears  in 
the  forest.} 

Annawan.  Foiled  by  a  squaw  ! 

Philip.     Let  five  or  six  the  fleetest  braves  pursue, 
And  bring  him  back,  alive  or  dead. — 

[Exeunt  several  braves. 
The  Ruler  pardon  thee,  Totatomet ; 
For  thou  hast  broke  her  beauteous  vase  of  life, 
And  shook  the  perfume  of  its  mortal  flower 
Rudely  in  air.     I  loved  thee  as  a  son  ; 
But  henceforth  be  no  warrior  of  mine. 

Totatomet.  Sachem, 

I  have  shook  hands  with  desperation  ;  so 
I  bow  me  to  thy  will,  and  from  thy  tree 
Bark  my  dear  hopes,  how  dear  I  cannot  tell. 
But  first  I  exile  from  my  use  this  knife 
Which  hath  trod  in  her  side,  as  cursed  thing  ; 
For  it  would  scorch  my  hand  and  burn  withal 
The  marrow  of  my  bones,  in  thought  of  her: 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  97 

But  ye  the  precious  drops  that  stain  its  lips, 
I  will  entreasure. 

[Dries  the  knife  on  his  breast,,  and  throws  it  down. 
I  pray  thee,  thine  :  something  I  have  to  do. 

[To  AGAMAUG. 

Farewell,  Pometacom  !     Her  did  I  love  ; 
But  love's  sweet  dew  in  fang  of  jealousy 
Sucked  and  distilled,  to  poisonous  frenzy  turns. 
The  pale-face  lives  ;  and  for  his  trail  and  mine 
Too  narrow  is  the  earth.  [Exit. 

Philip.  On  the  air  their  voices  die  ! 

Ere  the  night  wind  unbinds  that  lace  of  cloud 
From  the  moon's  neck,  they  will  be  back;  and  then 
No  accident  can  set  denial's  foot 
On  thy  great  hope. 

Annawan.       I  am  not  sure  :  with  hosts  of  fiends 
He  is  in  league.     Hearing  he  is  at  large 
Will  sadden  me.     Ho  !  double  the  pursuit ! 
A  belt  of  wampum  in  my  wigwam  hangs 
For  him  who  brings  his  scalp. 

[Exeunt  several  braves. 

Philip.  I  clothed  me  in  a  robe 

With  all  our  battles  painted  in  bright  hues, 
And  there  his  burning  death.     If  he  surprise 
Freedom,  my  fortune  now  at  fullest  orb 
Begins  to  wane.  [Exeunt. 


98  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

SCENE  III. — THE  FOREST  IN  POKANOKET.  An  Indian 
trail  crossing  a  deep  glen  which  opens  on  the  sea. 
Night :  as  the  scene  progresses  the  day  dawns. 

Enter  CHURCH  bearing  WENONAH. 

Church.     This  point  of   woods   laying   an   ebon 

hand 

Slim  on  the  white  cheek  of  the  sovereign  sea, 
Should  be  the  south  coast  of  Pokanoket. 
No  further  can  I  go  ;  my  walls  of  strength 
Surrender  to  exhaustion.     If  no  aid 
Come  with  the  dawn,  that  light  rebukes  and  ends 
These  saucy  woes,  to  me  the  truest  aid. 
My  precious  burden  here  will  I  lay  down 
On  this  green  bed  spread  by  the  gracious  sun. 
Dead  !  dead  !     Fair  casket  of  the  richest  soul 
Ever  was  current  in  this  sordid  world, 
With  its  pure  coin  to  buy  my  worthless  life. 
But  see  !  with  stealthy  pace  the  blood  creeps  back 
In  her  cold  cheek,  hoisting  his  standard  there 
To  rally  hope. 

Wcnonah.      Ah  me  ! 

Church.  Wenonah ! 

Wenonah.  Are  we  still  pursued  ? 

Church.  The  darkness  puts  to  sleep 

Their  drowsy  chase. 

Wenonah.  Blood  has  been  shed, 

And  thou  art  wounded  too. 

Church.  Had  some  knife 

Gifted  my  body  with  a  mortal  blow, 
I  now  were  happy. 

Wenonah.  Thou  shouldst  have  left 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  99 

Me  to  my  fate,  and  put  thine  own  true  life 

Beyond  their  reach.     How  are  we  here  ? 
Church.  It  will  distress  thee  more  : 

Think  not  of  it. 

Wenonah.        Nay,  the  story  I  will  take, 
Token  of  thee,  to  that  home  the  west  wind 

Is  winging  me,  and  treasure  it  for  aye. 

Church.  Two  I  had  slain  ;  one  held  the  trail 

Outstripping  his  dull  comrades  in  the  race, 
And  chid  my  yawning  speed  till  further  flight 
No  glimpse  of  safety  saw.     I  turned  me  round  : 
With  swifter  spring  leaps  not  the  incensed  bear 
When  in  a  bone-strewn  cave,  lit  by  her  eyes, 
A  hunter  seeks  her  cubs,  than  at  his  throat 
I  flew,  his  yell  entombing  ere  its  birth  ; 
And  feasted  in  his  blood  my  hungry  knife. 
The  end  is  not  yet :  another  must  drain 
That  fatal  chalice,  hostage  still  for  thee. 

Wenonah.  I  die  content. 

Look  on  me  so  !     Within  thy  glance  I  see 
A  speechless  tongue  that  doth  translate  thy  love 
In  language  of  devotion  that  knows  not 
The  dialect  of  change.     This  timeless  end 
Trips  up  the  retinue  of  golden  days 
My  fancy  started  when  our  lives  as  one 
Should  drift  to  God  on  waves  of  happiness  ; 
And  when  thy  hand  should  loose  my  virgin  zone, 
And  me  make  mother  of  some  old-time  race 
To  plant  an  iron  age.     The  sword  of  fate 
Thrust  from  the  ambush  of  a  friendly  hand, 
Remorseless  falls,  and  mutilates  my  hope  : 
But  how  I  love  thee  ! 
Church.  This  is  more  cruel  loss 


IOO  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

To  plough  and  harrow  o'er  my  brow  of  life, 
Than  all  the  fiery  dangers  I  have  passed. 
Had  I  been  tutored  in  the  stoic  creed, 
I'd  throw  away  the  gift  of  longer  days 
To  follow  thee — friends,  honor,  and  the  fame 
That  lackeys  deeds  of  praise,  all,  all  that  earth 
Holds  dear,  and  view  them  motes  in  thy  great  beam 
Of  rapture-giving  thoughts.     A  radiant  one, 
Hallowed  and  perfect,  will  I  hold  thee  here, 
Till  time  in  pity  cuts  my  mortal  thread. 

Wenonah.     Come  nearer,  Church  !    I  wish  to  feel 

thine  arm 

Around  me — there  is  stealing  over  me 
An  icy  breath — and  cold  invades  my  limbs — 
And  feelings  strange  do  harbor  in  my  heart. 
A  calmness  as  of  sleep  creeps  to  my  brain, 
And  rings  my  senses  in  a  sisterhood 
Of  dreams.     Like  lappings  of  the  ocean's  tongue 
On  face  of  a  pebbled  strand,  the  sounds  of  earth 
Are  smothered  in  mine  ear.     Remember  me — 
And  think  I  only  loved  my  life  for  thee.  \Dies. 

Enter  TOTATOMET. 

Church.  Farewell,  forever  fare  thee  well ! 

Now  heaven  lead  me  half  the  height  she  scaled, 
And  I  am  worthy  ! — Ha  !  thou  damned  wretch  ! 
My  tongue  it  blisters  to  articulate 
Thy  hell-born  name. 

Totatomet.     Thou  canst  not  loathe  it  more  than  I. 

Church.  What  wouldst  thou  here, 

Thou  mailed  in  guiltiness  ?     Hast  come  to  gloat 
Over  my  misery,  and  to  steep  thy  hate 
Up  to  its  very  top  in  horror's  gulf  ? 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  IOI 

Behold  the  tragic  burden  of  this  earth  ! 

Look  where  thy  knife  staggered  in  her£dear  side, 

And  churlishly  thrust  to  the  vulgar  air 

The  fairest  soul  that  in  a  house  of  clay 

Did  ever  dwell.     Thee  shall  damnation  seize, 

And  drag  thee  down  the  howling  coast  of  hell, 

Where  fiends  shall  fly  with  thee  in  burning  winds, 

Or  swim  through  lakes  of  sulphur,  and  all  time 

Griddle  thy  flesh  on  endless  coals  of  fire, 

As  I  could  now. 

Totatomet.        Thy  passion  shall  not  wring 
Out  of  my  cold  despair  a  single  word. 
Stand  thou  aside  awhile  ;  for  I  would  plant 
In  my  sad  mind  the. tokens  of  a  face 
Whose  beauty  I  did  worship.     It  is  our  trait 
The  red  man  never  weeps  ;  else  could  mine  eyes 
Pour  drops  as  fast  as  bearded  spruce  their  gum 
On  the  black  ground,  when  spring  unchains 'its  life  ; 
Washing  in  love  those  pure  and  livid  lines, 
Till  tears  had  thawed  the  icy  hand  of  death. — 
Strew  ashes  on  your  heads,  ye  Seconets  ! 
And  wail  in  shrillest  voice  ;  for  she  is  dead 
Whose  sway  poured  honor  on  our  Sogkonate. 
This  hand  was  traitor  to  my  purposes, 
That  should  in  loyal  service  of  thy  life 
Grow  lean  and  wrinkled,  rather  than  betray. 
I  had  not  thought  in  this  to  play  the  squaw  ; 
Nor  deemed  that  in  the  valleys  of  my  heart 
The  flowers  of  pity  grew.     If  curses  come, 
My  soul  will  bow  and  bid  them  welcome  :  meet 
It  is  that  I  should  suffer.     Fare  thee  well  ! — 
Pale-face,  what  wouldst  thou  have  ! 

Church.  Naught  but  thy  life. 


IO2  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Totatomet.     A  foeman  dost  thou  see  not  greatly 

cares 

If  victory  shall  on  his  banner  perch. 
I  stand  within  the  ruins  of  my  life  : 
Ever  the  same  to  me  is  peace  or  strife. 
The  Seconet  is  ready. 

Church.  Then  to  it. 

[  They  fight  with  knives  :  TOTATOMET  falls.'] 

Totatomet.  Pale-face, 

I  thank  thee,  though  thy  hand  did  strike  in  hate. 
With  us  it  is  a  crime  to  slay  the  chief 
Who  in  our  tribal  lodges  bears  a  sway  : 
An  exile  he  must  be,  and  every  hand 
Devoted  to  his  death.     Me  hast  thou  freed 
By  strumpet  chance  ensnared,  and  in  the  air 
Of  nobler  fortunes  set.  [Dies. 

Church.     I  am  undone  ;    this  triumph  costs  me 

dear  : 

It  cannot  balm  my  deep  and  gaping  wounds. 
Thy  life  for  hers  thrown  in  the  scale  of  fate 
Is  light  as  down  ;  and  mine  is  desolate, 
Hope-barren  as  the  deeds  this  night  hath  seen. 
The  burning  lips  of  fever  suck  my  wounds  ; 
Upon  my  shoulders  hangs  a  robe  of  fire  : 
This  dell  is  like  to  be  a  triple  grave. 
Come,  dissolution,  with  thy  fingers  cold 
And  close  my  door  of  sense.;  and  all  the  lights 
Of  hope  and  pride  that  in  this  mansion  burn 
Snuff  out :  let  valor  die  that  had  no  power 
To  snatch  her  from  the  frosty  kiss  of  death  ; 
Be  hatred  rampant  on  this  earthly  stage, 
And  slaughter  raging  here  with  crimson  jaws 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  103 

Dig  ancient  chaos  from  the  grave  of  time  ; 

Eclipse  tear  from  the  forehead  of  the  sky 

The  golden  tresses  of  the  hateful  sun  ; 

And  the  vast  night  preach  in  his  pulpit  black 

The  sermon  of  the  dead.  \Falls  in  a  swoon. 

Enter  SAMPONCUT. 

Samponcut.  By  Segwun's  tears  ! 

I  little  thought  to  find  me  here — ah  me  ! 
But  who  can  stand  the  siege  of  scolding  wife  ? 
All  day  she  did  bombard  my  ears  with  cries 
And  wailings  for  her  "  Squaw,"  her  "  motherling," 
Her  "sweet  Wenonah,"  till  my  temples  throbbed 
Like  pines  in  the  fierce  blasts  of  winter's  wind. 
My  meat  was  sauced  with  her  reproaches  loud  ; 
The  glass  of  my  sweet  sleep  was  cracked  by  them. 
What  could  I  do  ?     I  like  an  easy  time 
Loafing  around  the  village,  and  to  snooze 
Under  an  oak  the  long,  long  summer  day  ; 
Or  to  lie  fishing  on  a  grassy  bank 
As  moveless  as  a  turbid  rattlesnake 
Clutched  by  the  frost  down  in  his  stony  den. 
But,  by  the  hoary  beard  of  Peboan  ! 
My  peace  was  taken  captive  by  her  tongue  ; 
And  nothing  could  it  ransom  back  again 
But  I  should  go  and  find  the  Sachemess, 
And  bring  her  home. 
I  bade  adieu  to  all  my  ancient  haunts  ; 
And  stored  my  bark  with  clams  and  venison, 
In  loyal  homage  to  my  belly's  lord  ; 
For  many  plans  are  marred  that  to  this  god 
Neglect  to  sacrifice  :  and  as  the  sun 
Stood  tip-toe  on  the  blue  Pocasset  hills, 


104  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

I  girded  up  my  loins,  and  wended  on. 

Ugh  !     If  I  be  not  shot  in  wanton  blood 

By  some  of  those  young  bucks  from   Plymouth 

town, 

And  scalped  alive,  a  seventh  son  am  I, 
And  snap  my  lucky  fingers  at  mischance. 
But  now  the  infant  day  in  cloudy  locks 
Is  peering  out  the  windows  of  the  east, 
And  I  must  spur  my  jaded  valor  on. 
But  soft !     What  have  we  here  ?   A  sleeping  brave  ? 
Rouse,  sluggard,  rouse  !     Too  precious  are  these 

hours 

To  gird  the  waist  of  slumber  !     Art  thou  drunk  ? 
As  I  do  live  it  is  Totatomet. 
What  ho  !     Totatomet !     No  moving  yet ! 
He's  soaked  in  blood,  and  hears  no  earthly  call. 
Ha  !  what  is  this  beyond  ?    A  ghastly  crop 
This  dingle  bears.     A  squaw  !     Our  Seconet  ! 
Oh  death  !  thou  harvestest  the  ripe  and  the  unripe  ; 
And  crammest  full  thy  barns  with  human  grain, 
To  glut  thy  winter  maw  !     Who  groaneth  there  ? 
Is  one  alive  ? 

Church.        Help  ! 

Samponcut.  Hist ! 

Church.  Help  !  if  thou  hast  a  heart 

That  beats  for  human  woe. 

Samponcut.  I  know  that  voice. 

Church.     Thou  art  a  Seconet,  and  hadst  the  part 
Of  service  in  her  life  who  lies  in  coldness. 
Bind  up  my  wounds  that  fester  in  the  air  ; 
And  have  my  thanks  and  the  report  of  deeds 
To  slake  thy  wonder's  thirst. 

Samponcut.  I  will  do  so  ; 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  105 

And  pray  thy  hand  is  free  of  such  black  guilt 

In  tearing  down  and  robbing  of  its  light 

That  beauteous  house.     So,  so  :    now  canst  thou 

stand  ? 

I'll  lead  thee  to  my  boat  in  yonder  cove  : 
And  then  return  to  ship  this  dismal  freight, 
And  steer  us  home. 

Church.     [Kneels  at  Wenonatts  side.] 

Let  me  but  coffin  in  mine  arms 
This  dear  mortality.     The  birds  awake, 
And  cradle  in  the  air  their  happy  songs  ; 
But  we  shall  never  hear  thy  voice  again. 
Thy  beauty  is  bequeathed  to  miser  death 
Whose  halls  are  crowded  with  the  lovely  ones 
Of  this  sad  earth,  and  still  unsatisfied 
Drafts  us  for  more. — 

Bear  with  me,  Seconet ; 
For  this  subdues  my  fortitude.  No  more  ! 
Lead  on  !  I've  felt  my  sorrows  as  a  man  : 
Now  bend  my  looks  the  future's  brow  to  scan. 

[Scene  closes. 
7 


ACT  V. 


--- : :- 

--   :_   i 


;  -   =~  :m  -  ^ 


PHILIP    OF    POKAXOKET.  107 

First  Citizen.     I  fear  me  for  that  noble  band 
Whose  steps  are  meshed  in  snows,  while  icy  winds 
Fold  them  in  death.     So  long  hath  victory's  arms 
Fondled  the  name  of  Philip,  we  but  live 
In  suburbs  of  her  love. 

Second  Citizen.  Xay,  Humble  Ames, 

Quell  thy  despair  and  pin  thy  faith  to  Church. 
He  studied  in  the  school  of  Indian  arts  : 
Each  trick  of  ambush,  manner  of  attack 
He  is  familiar  with.     If  any  one 
Can  coax  a  smile  from  lips  of  stern  mischance, 
Church  is  the  man. — 

Enter  a  MESSENGER. 

Golightly,  art  thou  from  the  camp  ? 

Messenger.  Ay.  Master  Job. 

Second  Citizen.     Well,  what's  the  word  ? 

Jfesscnger.  Too  feeble  is  my  breath 

To  lift  the  news  to  hearing. 

First  Citizen.  "Pis  heavy  then  ? 

I  never  knew  a  one  who  bore  good  news 
But  blurts  it  out. 

Messenger.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !     If  my  speed  had  not 
The  last  two  hours  devoured  a  dozen  miles, 
I  would  be  merry. 

First  Citizen.     I  would  thy  legs  might  teach  thy 

tongue 
Some  better  speed. 

Second  Citizen.    Come  !  come  !  tell  us  the  worst. 

Messenger.     Ye  drooping  hearts  !  from  garden  of 

your  mind 

Weed  out  that  thought.     If  hundreds  of  the  red 
Devils  with  bloody  arms  their  bride  of  death 


ACT  V. 

SCENE    I. — PLYMOUTH.     The  shore  of  the  Bay,  with 
Plymouth  Rock  :  the  ground  covered  with  snow. 

Enter  a  CITIZEN. 

Citizen.     In  Thy  sight  a  thousand  years 
Are  but  as  yesterday,  and  as  a  watch 
Upon  the  hills  of  night.     How  even  now 
Thine  anger  doth  consume  us,  and  Thy  wrath 
Makes  us  afraid. 

Enter  SECOND  CITIZEN. 

Hast  heard  the  rumor,  Job  ? 

Second  Citizen.  Now,  by  my  faith  ! 

Mine  ears  are  stuffed  with  rumors,  as  an  inn 
On  stormy  night  with  lated  travellers. 

First  Citizen.     But  this  one  smacks  of  truth,  and 

it  will  slap 

The  face  of  thy  composure.     It  is  said 
The  army  is  defeated  and  dispersed — 
That  goodly  force  bearing  in  its  strong  hand 
Our  best,  last  hope.     Alack  !  we  are  undone. 

Second  Citizen.  Fie  on  that  garrulous  dame  ! 

Truth  hang  her  up  in  chains,  and  then  cut  out 
Her  thousand  tongues.     Ben  Church  our  muster 

leads  ; 

And  when  he  steers  the  vessel  of  the  war, 
I  sleep  in  peace. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  107 

First  Citizen.     I  fear  me  for  that  noble  band 
Whose  steps  are  meshed  in  snows,  while  icy  winds 
Fold  them  in  death.     So  long  hath  victory's  arms 
Fondled  the  name  of  Philip,  we  but  live 
In  suburbs  of  her  love. 

Second  Citizen.  Nay,  Humble  Ames, 

Quell  thy  despair  and  pin  thy  faith  to  Church. 
He  studied  in  the  school  of  Indian  arts  : 
Each  trick  of  ambush,  manner  of  attack 
He  is  familiar  with.     If  any  one 
Can  coax  a  smile  from  lips  of  stern  mischance, 
Church  is  the  man. — 

Enter  a  MESSENGER. 

Golightly,  art  thou  from  the  camp  ? 

Messenger.  Ay,  Master  Job. 

Second  Citizen.     Well,  what's  the  word  ? 

Messenger.  Too  feeble  is  my  breath 

To  lift  the  news  to  hearing. 

First  Citizen.  'Tis  heavy  then  ? 

I  never  knew  a  one  who  bore  good  news 
But  blurts  it  out. 

Messenger.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !     If  my  speed  had  not 
The  last  two  hours  devoured  a  dozen  miles, 
I  would  be  merry. 

First  Citizen.     I  would  thy  legs  might  teach  thy 

tongue 
Some  better  speed. 

Second  Citizen.     Come  !  come  !  tell  us  the  worst 

Messenger.     Ye  drooping  hearts  !  from  garden  of 

your  mind 

Weed  out  that  thought.     If  hundreds  of  the  red 
Devils  with  bloody  arms  their  bride  of  death 


IO8  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Clasping,  charred  in  the  flames  that  wrapped  their 

fort 

In  robes  of  ruin,  seem  to  you  a  loss, 
What,  then,  is  victory  ? 

First  Citizen.     How  now  !  what  dost  thou  say  ? 

Second  Citizen.    Ho  !  give  him  time,  and  he  will 

weave 
A  glorious  tale. 

Messenger.       Rather  put  in  my  clutch 
That  dark  green  bottle,  and  my  tongue  will  run 
Fast  as  thy  wish. 

Second  Citizen.     Odds  boddikins  !    my  manners 
slept.  [Gives  him  a  flask. 

Messenger.     Silence    itself  will  this  make    elo 
quent.  [Drinks. 
Know,  then,  our  arms  have  kissed  the  mouth  of 

triumph  ; 
And  in   the   Narraganset  swamp  have  backward 

rolled 

The  tide  of  Indian  conquest.     'Twas  a  day 
That  did  make  faces  at  our  bodily  ease  ; 
In  which  the  elements  struggled  with  man 
For  first  degree  and  prize  of  cruelty. 
With  swords  of  snow  and  sleet  the  surly  air 
Guarded  the  pathway  to  the  hostile  town  : 
So  little  day  could  elbow  through  the  storm 
We  deemed  that  jealous  night  usurped  his  throne. 
Besides  high  palisades,  hedges  of  trees 
A  rod  in  thickness,  felled  around  the  fort, 
Our  valor  mocked  and  dressed  our  hopes  in  black. 
No  way  was  there  to  enter  but  a  log 
Spanning  the  moat,  which  passage  did  forbid 
To  more  than  one. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  109 

With  courage  that  in  golden  letters  writ 
Should  be  bound  in  the  deathless  book  of  fame, 
Our  faithful  soldiers  trod  that  faithless  path 
Where   death's  vast  tongue  did  lick  them  up  by 

scores. 

In  deadly  silence  was  their  place  supplied  ; 
And  still  those  borrowed  lives  were  ravined  down 
The  throats  of  flame.     And  all  indeed  was  lost, 
But  that  a  desperate  band  by  Mosely  led, 
Taught  to  unhoard  their  blood  at  freedom's  call, 
And  shrug  at  death  the  shoulder  of  contempt, 
Had  got  them  in  the  rearward  of  the  fort. 
These,  hand  to  hand,  contended  with  the  braves 
At  fearful  odds,  until  the  cry  "They  run," 
Larded  their  ribs  of  fright  with  such  fresh  force, 
It  struck  a  panic  in  the  Indian  host. 
Then  was  the  hand  of  terror  wide  unclasped  ; 
And  slaughter  like  a  fiend  broken  from  hell 
Did  stride  amid  their  ranks.     From  lodge  to  lodge 
In  anguish  flying,  pappooses,  squaws,  and  braves 
Our  swords   pursued,  and   supped   them   in  their 

blood. 

In  heaps  on  heaps,  a  weltering  mass  they  lay, 
The  ruby  currents  of  their  ebbing  hearts 
The  banks  of  snow  dissolving.     Give  me  grace, 
If  our  revenge  did  shock  the  marble  face 
Of  heaven  ;  for  in  our  breasts  did  Ate  dwell, 
And,  shrieking,  gentle  mercy  bade  farewell. 
Now  yield  me  food  and  rest. 

Second  Citizen.  Thou  shalt  have  all. 

The  wonder  and  contentment  in  my  breast 
So  strive,  my  tongue  is  conscript  to  the  war, 
And  looks  must  do  his  office.     This  will  be 


IIO  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

To  Winslow's  mind  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock 

Within  a  weary  land.     Pray  he  return  ! 

Go  thou,  good  Humble,  and  apprise  the  town 

With  chimes  and  ringing  of  the  merry  bells 

In  the  embattled  church, 

That  fortune  now  to  us  is  penitent, 

And  hath  no  thought  but  to  our  vantage  bent. 

First  Citizen.     I  will ;   and  soon  your  company 

will  join 

To  hear  Golightly  once  again  recoin 
His  wondrous  tale. 

Second  Citizen.      Do  so,  and  be 
Welcome. — Come,  Malachi !  \Exeunt. 


SCENE  II.  THE  FOREST  IN  POCASSET.  An  Indian 
form  flits  between  the  trees,  followed  presently  by 
others,  in  twos  and  threes.  Then  solitude,  broken 
only  by  the  tap  of  a  woodpecker  on  the  trunk  of 
a  white  pine. 

AGAMAUG,  ensconced  in  a  clump  of  scrub  oak, 
glides  like  a  snake  over  the  scene,  and  peers  down 
the  aisles  of  trees.  Satisfied,  apparently,  there  are 
no  foes,  he  rises  to  his  feet,  and  utters  a  guttural 
"  Onaway."  The  screen  of  columbine  which  covers 
the  mouth  of  a  cave  in  the  rocks  is  parted,  and 
ALDERMAN  with  noiseless  tread  stands  at  his 
brother's  side. 

Agamaug.      Their  footsteps   wander  from   the 

trail, 

And  danger  us  no  more.     Our  greatest  foe 
Sits  at  our  council  fire. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  Ill 

Alderman.     Come,  Agamaug,  no  more  of  that. 

Agamaug.     The  mama  studs  the  trunk  of  yonder 

pine 

With  wormy  acorns,  so  its  famine  dies 
When  snow  the  ground  besieges.     Shall  we  less  ? 

Alderman.  The  pelican  will  dip  her  bill 

In  her  own  heart,  to  feed  her  fainting  young. 
Into  the  chasm  of  our  nation's  need 
Should  we  not  throw  our  lives  ? 

Agamaug.  But  answer  me: 

Are  our  free  souls  in  bondage  to  his  will, 
And  may  not  drink  the  air  of  their  resolves  ? 

Alderman.     Let  never  echo   chase  those  words 

again, 

For  they  do  blur  thy  gloss  of  loyalty  ; 
And  in  their  action  and  report  will  pull 
Misfortune  on  thy  life.     Brother,  be  calm  ! 

Agamaug.     Is  the  sea  calm  when  the  rough  winds 
Tear  out  its  crystal  hair,  and  dash  it  down 
On  the  grim  rocks  ?     Nay,  teach  Pometacom 
A  gentle  way. 

Alderman.  Will  the  pine  stoop 

Its  shoulder  to  the  brake,  the  eagle  nest 
Beside  the  wren  ? 

Agamaug.     We  should  not  to  his  desperate  pur 
pose  dye 

Our  own  clear  minds  ;  nor  dip  his  mad  designs 
In  fountain  of  our  praise.     The  Chiefs  are  in  revolt, 
And  grasp  this  sad  occasion  by  the  hand 
To  save  the  remnant  of  their  broken  tribes. 
In  mournful  tones  the  Swamp  defeat  doth  tell 
Pokanoket  to  freedom  bids  farewell. 

Alderman.     It  may  be  so,  but  in  his  fame  I  have 


112  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

A  lover's  privilege,  and  now  I  am 
Alone  with  him. 

Agamaug.        How  !     What  says  he  ? 

Alderman.  When  my  will  was  law, 

The  torch  of  victory  was  passed  along 
From  hand  to  hand  of  battle,  till  it  grew 
One  canopy  of  fire  that  dropped  on  earth 
Embers  of  massacre  whose  hundred  throats 
Sucked  up  the  English  power. 

Agamaug.  His  opportunity, 

Not  seized  at  proper  time,  is  ever  gone. 
A  thousand  hearts  whose  golden  blood  did  pass 
In  deeds  of  terror  o'er  the  shrieking  land, 
Lie  shrouded  in  the  clotted  slime  and  ooze 
That  creeps  in  silence  round  that  fatal  fort : 
No  voice  may  call  them  from  the  mortal  sleep 
In  which  ambition's  hand  hath  buried  them. 
And  is  his  genius  so  omnipotent 
That  it  can  clothe  the  beings  of  his  brain 
With  flesh  and  blood,  to  rush  into  the  gap 
Mown  by  his  pride,  and  to  the  whites  present 
An  undejected  brow  ? 

A  Iderman.     Call  it  no  fault  of  his  if  treason's  hand 
Unlatched  our  hope  in  Narraganset  Swamp. 
Already  hath  he  bandaged  up  that  loss 
On  field  of  Lancaster  ;  and  to  the  whites 
Marching  in  Medfield  held 
The  goblet  of  defeat. 

The  Sachem's  fortune,  one  foot  in  the  grave, 
Pulls  not  his  courage  after.     He  desponds 
Never,  nor  bends  the  head  of  confidence 
To  knee  of  doubt ;  for  doubts  are  foxes'  breed, 
And  do  betray  us  in  the  hour  of  need. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET,  113 

Agamaug.  Wah ! 

With  flattery  his  deeds  are  fenced  around  ; 
And  there  be  none  with  soul  enough  to  dare 
Let  down  the  bars  of  censure. 

Alderman.  Agamaug, 

For  that  he  woke  the  giant  of  this  strife 
In  noble  cause,  his  race  will  cherish  him  ; 
And  any  word  that  purpose  doth  deny 
Grows  in  the  swamp  of  malice.     Let  us  die, 
And  fill  one  common  grave,  than  now  draw  back, 
And  stoop  to  lick  that  wronging  hand. 

Agamaug.  Nay,  rather  let  us  live, 

And  work  our  mission  out.     A  timely  peace 
Which  we  may  mould  in  likeness  of  our  wish, 
With  arms  in  hand  ;  a  portion  of  our  lands  ; 
The  lives  we  bear  and  those  we  hold  in  love  ; 
And  silent  memories  of  heroic  deeds, 
May  purchase  now.     I  go  to  the  dread  Chief, 
Bearing  this  bitter  draught ;  and  I  will  sing 
Even  unto  hfs  face  the  tragic  note 
That  in  my  ear  is  ringing. 

Alderman.     Alas  !  thou  knowest  not  Pometacom 
If  thou  dost  think  his  soul  will  kneel  to  peace 
While  loyalty  can  marshal  to  the  fray 
A  single  spirit  of  Pokanoket ; 
While  his  right  arm  the  listening  air  can  charm 
With  music  of  the  whizzing  tomahawk. 
I  love  thee,  Agamaug,  and  would  not  see 
Thy  life  stand  in  the  lightning  of  his  wrath. 

Agamaug.     His   sway   is   but   the   child   of   our 

desires, 
And  not  their  master.     Fare  thee  well  ! 


114  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Alderman.     Unhappy  man !     I  fear  me  for  the 

worst 

While  this  resentment  spurs  thy  foaming-  thoughts 
To  brink  of  danger.     I  will  go  with  thee. 

\Exeunt. 

SCENE   III.     METAPOISET.     The  Indian  camp  on  the 
banks  of  the  Taunton. 

Enter  PHILIP  and  TATOSON. 

Tat os on.  By  the  skin 

Of  the  fierce  rattlesnake  twined  in  my  hair, 
The  totem  which  I  worship,  it  is  true  : 
Their  loose  allegiance  have  the  Pecomptucks 
Thrown  off,  and  scattered  to  their  river  towns. 

Philip.  False  as  water,  fickle  as  the  wind  ! 

They  were  the  last  to  dig  the  hatchet  up, 
The  first  to  bury  it.     Time-servers'  minds 
The  cord  of  faith  and  honor  never  binds. — 

vi 

Enter  ANNAWAN. 
What  mutiny  now  walks  abroad  ? 

Annawan.  Pometacom, 

Throw  not  on  me  that  eye  of  basilisk 
That  kills  with  looking. 

Philip.  Be  content : 

I  hurt  them  not  I  love. 

Annawan.     Hear,  then  !     The  Nipmuck  chief, 
Clasping  the  hand  of  rude  rebellion,  hath 
Called  all  his  braves  from  the  projected  fray, 
And  sullenly  files  back  his  homeward  way. 

Philip.     Thou  art  a  man  so  perfect  and  complete, 
It  ill  becomes  thy  parts  to  father  lies. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  115 

Let    tongues    that    never    warned,   though    they 

should  be 

Organs  of  nature  or  the  sky's  rapt  tones, 
Knock  at  my  door  of  hearing  with  those  words, 
I  should  but  cram  them  down  their  joyless  throats, 
Saying  they  lie. 

Annawan.         My  Chief,  'tis  even  so  ; 
And  that  it's  so,  I  grieve  me  I  had  eyes 
To  draw  the  image  of  that  basest  act 
Upon  my  sense  recoiling. 

Philip.  Traitors  ! 

If  there  be  any  word  of  deeper  shame 
To  soak  their  memory  in  and  rot  their  name, 
I  want  it  now. 

Annawan.     There  is  more  ; 
But  none  have  dared  to  bring  the  news  to  thee, 
And  I  will  strangle  the  misshapen  birth 
Even  in  bed  of  utterance. 

Philip.  Nay,  go  on  : 

I  am  a  rock  where  fiercest  surge  of  grief 
May  beat  in  vain. 

Annawan.  Dear  Sachem, 

nfected  by  the  virus  of  revolt, 
Deeming  the  issue  travels  to  despair, 
The  Narragansets  have  drawn  off  their  bands 
And  fasten  on  the  moccasin  of  peace. 

Philip.  I  pray  you,  look, 

And  tell  me  if  I  seem  a  common  man 
Whose  eye  hath  lost  its  sway.     If  I  am  less, 
This  fadeless  cause  should  dilate  in  their  thought 
To  mountain  size,  and  dwarf  all  earthly  things. 
Oh  reputation  !  art  thou  but  a  cloak 
That  one  may  turn  or  cast  away  at  will, 


Il6  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Even  as  suits  his  whim,  and  buy  from  time 

Trappings  of  approbation  that  will  blind 

The  eyes  of  men  to  rottenness  within  ! 

My  fortunes  are  corrupted  by  the  blood 

That  should  ennourish  them.     Why  do  I  chide  ? 

Let  treason  come  !     I  did  not  beckon  it ; 

I  held  me  clear.     If  they  with  most  foul  hands 

Deflower  our  mission's  virgin  purity, 

I  have  respected  it  and  held  it  dear. — 

Enter  TUSPAQUIN. 

Now,  Assawomset,  choke  these  venom  throats, 
Or  play  a  cheerful  strain. 

Tuspaquin.  Pometacom,  my  Chief, 

In  cabin  of  thy  fortune  I  have  lodged  ; 
And  I  will  be  a  neighbor  to  thy  loss. 

Philip.  If  we  have  read  our  wampum  right, 

Thine  is  a  race  steadfast  to  its  resolves. 
It  medicines  the  sickness  of  my  state 
To  look  on  thee  :  I  know  that  thou  hast  played 
Well  thy  last  part. 

Tuspaquin.     Sachem,  some  other  tongue  must  be 
The  deputy  of  what  I  bear. 

Philip.  Ha  !  what  is  it  ?     Speak  out ! 

I  am  so  deep  in  sorrow's  bitter  sea 
Nothing  can  push  me  further 

Tuspaquin.  Good  my  Chief, 

What  they  have  told  thee  of  desertions  base, 
Of  that  rebellious  tide  upon  thy  shore 
Creeping  with  inky  feet,  and  battles  lost, 
Are  but  the  prologue  to  this  greater  scene 
Writ  out  by  pen  of  shame. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  II'J 

Philip.  Well ! 

Thou  seest  me  how  I  stand. 

Tuspaquin.  At  Acushnet 

With  all  the  Assawomset  braves  I  lay, 
Guarding  thy  squaw  and  child  confided  us 
i  In  hope  we   might   grope   through   the   cloud   of 

whites, 

And  in  the  bleak  north  an  asylum  find 
Kinder  than  men.     The  fingers  of  the  dawn 
Had  just  unlaced  the  purple  robe  of  night, 
When  led  by  Church  a  hundred  Plymouth  men, 
Like  lightning  swords  flashing  from  vapor  sheaths, 
Fell  on  us  sleeping.     Musket  voices  belched 
Their  leaden  missives  folded  up  in  flame, 
That  argued  down  the  whooping  of  my  braves. 
Our  angry  guns  answered  the  challenge  stern, 
Giving  to  death  a  legacy  of  foes. 
With  mine  own  arm  three  did  I  cleave  to  earth, 
But  two  to  one  they  overmatched  our  strength  ; 
And  valor  made  a  flatterer  of  retreat. 
We  fled  :  I  sought  Oneka  and  thy  son  ; 
But  in  the  surge  of  battle  they  were  borne 
On  rocks  of  bondage.     Sachem,  I  am  unfit 
Longer  to  breathe  the  beneficial  air  : 
Take  thou  this  blade  and  sheathe  it  in  my  breast. 

\Kneels  before  PHILIP,  bares  his  bosom,  and  offers  him  his 

knife.} 

Philip.     A  many  perils  have  I  passed,  but  this 
Staggers  my  mind.     Is  it  so,  Annawan  ? 
I  look  upon  the  ground,  and  yet  it  yawns 
No  bottomless  mouth  to  draw  me  in.     The  heavens 
That  once  were  fair  and  noble  to  my  sight, 


Il8  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Now  seem  more  terrible  than  serpents'  eyes 
When  they  strike  them  in  men's  to  fascinate. 
I  had  a  heart  within  whose  gates  did  pass 
A  regiment  of  tender  sentiments  ; 
But  it  hath  grown  to  marble  in  this  hour. 

Annawan.     Thy  words  have  drifted  on  his  he^art 
A  bitter  snow.     Better,  away. 

Tuspaquin.  Ill  find  a  ditch, 

And  there  my  body  lay.  [Exit. 

Philip.  Where  hath  he  gone  ? 

Bear  with  me,  braves,  if  I  a  gentle  thought 
Bequeath  to  those  perfections.     It  is  past  ; 
And  now  I  turn  me  from  that  black  abyss 
Where  all  that  smoothed  the  hardness  of  my  life, 
And  featured  me,  is  clasped  in  arms  of  loss; 
And  buckle  on  the  belt  of  fortitude, 
This  monster  world  defying. 

Enter  AGAMAUG  and  ALDERMAN. 

What  bold  dismay 

Posts  on  your  tongues  ?     Strike  on  !     I  alter  not 
If  cataracts  of  woe  burst  on  my  head, 
So  stony  is  it  here.  [Strikes  his  breast. 

Alderman.  What  cause  hast  thou  ! 

Philip.  Says  any  one  that  I 

Have  not  done  well  ?    Or  could  my  fortunes  grow 
Forever,  like  that  reptile  of  the  south 
Mud-dwelling,  when  my  instruments  are  men  ? 

Agamaug.  Pometacom, 

The  Manitou  is  angry  with  his  sons, 
And  speaks  his  censure  so. 

Annawan.     Now,  if  my  friendship  yet 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  119 

Is  honored  of  thy  mind,  go  kill  such  words 
On  thine  own  tongue. 

Philip.     Great  Medicine,  wilt  thou  sew  up 
This  ragged  time  ? 

Agamaug.  Listen,  Pometacom, 

For  in  thy  hand  is  held  the  doom  of  men. 
The  time  is  deathly  sick  ;  and  to  a  grave 
Hobble  our  pallid  fortunes.     We  have  played 
The  fatal  game  of  war,  and  we  have  lost. 
The  allies  have  deserted  ;  in  our  ranks 
Treason  and  pestilence  walk  hand  in  hand, 
And  daily  thin  our  sturdy  ribs  of  war. 
Like  withered  leaves  we  shudder  in  the  blast 
Of  English  power  which,  from  the  sea-bathed  east, 
Rushes  with  gloomy  hands  to  strip  our  tree. 
The  flower  of  Pokanoket  is  in  the  earth  ; 
And  whispers  in  the  dusty  ear  of  death, 
"  We  fell  in  vain  ! "     The  living  be  thy  care  ; 
And  while  we  may  with  free  and  sovereign  breath 
Parley  with  fate  for  honorable  terms, 
Seize  the  occasion,  and  our  country's  wounds 
Close  up  and  heal. 

Alderman.     Sachem,  in  the  dim  woods  that  nurse 
Strange  forms  of  thought,  visions  have  come  to  him  ; 
But  if  his  counsel  sits  in  lodge  of  harshness, 
And  grates  upon  thine  ear,  his  purpose  is 
Attorney  to  our  weal. 

Philip.  Have  ye  now  done, 

Or  do  ye  hold  in  leash  to  slip  on  me 
Fresh  hounds  of  grief  ? 

Agamaug.  Sachem, 

I  voice  the  feeling  of  the  tribe. 

Philip.  No! 


120  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Agamaug.  Yes  ! 

Philip.     How  !  all  are  recreant  to  their  faith, 
And  kiss  the  haggard  cheek  of  this  revolt  ? 
If  this  were  true,  I  would  push  off 
The  mountain  of  my  days,  and  the  false  tribe 
Captain  with  thee.     But  no  ! 
Thou  sowest  in  mine  ear 
A  slander.     Now  have  done  ! 

Alderman.     No  more  of  this  !     Come  ! 

Agamaug.      \Going.\     Whom   the   Great   Spirit 

would  destroy, 
He  first  of  reason  robs. 

Philip.     Thou  art  a  child  :  our  safety  lies 
But  in  the  victor  arm. 

Agamaug.     \Returning J\     Must  all  be  sacrificed 
To  offer  bloody  incense  to  thy  fame  ? 
Loss  piled  on  loss,  defeat  upon  defeat, 
Till  war's  hand  build  him  of  the  red  men's  bones 
A  ghastly  monument  that  shall  outstare 
The  blazing  eye  of  heaven,  to  after-times 
Writing  the  folly  of  Pometacom. 

A  nnawan.     The  serpent  sings  ;  the  eagle  flies  : 
My  maiden  love  is  in  the  skies. 

Philip.     Oh  cold  adversity  !  teach  me  restraint  ! 

Alderman.     Thy  judgment  slumbers  :  come  ! 

Agamaug.     I  never  bound  my  free  thought  to 

control. — 

Sachem,  this  is  a  time  to  shut  the  door 
In  face  of  flattery,  and  see  ourselves, 
Even  as  we  do  live,  in  glass  of  truth. 
We  dwelt  beneath  the  genial  sun  of  peace  ; 
In  numbers  grew  apace  ;  and  wrapped  us  up 
In  richest  mantle  of  prosperity. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  121 

We  were  content ;  but  still  there  crouched  in  thee 
An  evil  spirit  envious  of  our  lot, 
That  fired  thy  soul  to  hottest  lust  of  war, 
And  lured  it  blindly  to  adulterate 
In  gay  ambition's  bed.     Oh,  for  a  voice 
Whose  deep  echoes  might  live  in  ear  of  time  ; 
And  at  the  mention  of  thine  ill-starred  name, 
Start  up  and  rave  in  solemn  warning  tones  : 
"  Thou  wert  thy  country's  curse,  and  dropped  dis 
ease 

Upon  her  healthy  state,  and  gave  thy  will 
A  free  bridle  to  drive  her  to  her  ruin." 

Philip.  Hang  at  thy  throat 

The  red  fangs  of  the  wolf,  and  strangle  thee  ! 
I  sin  against  the  freedom  of  my  state 
In  wording  this  with  thee.     But  for  I  wish 
Thy  passion  should  not  smear  the  name  I  bear 
Purely  before  these  dear  and  veteran  braves, 
My  vengeance  should  not  lag  behind  mine  ire, 
But  bathe  it  in  thy  blood.     What !     I  ?— 
Ingrateful  wretch,  how  many  beads  of  favor 
Dost  thou  unstring — 

The  blood  I  dropped  on  twenty  glorious  fields 
Should  rise  to  life,  and  stifle  in  thy  throat 
That  giant  lie.     I  gave  the  nation  all  ; 
And  if  fidelity  may  brag  of  one 
That  loved  her  with  unspotted  soul,  'tis  he 
Who  stands  within  thy  sleet  of  injury. 
Away  !  and  live  !  or  I  shall  lay  on  thee 
Hands  that  are  terrible. 

Agamaug.     I  go,  but  not  from  fear.     Be  thou 
Still  governed  by  thy  dark  and  desperate  will  ; 
Quaff  blood  like  water  ;  be  thy  stepping-stones 
8 


122  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Skulls  which  shall  pave  this  lost  Pokanoket 
As  stars  the  sky  ;  and  set  thee  up  a  court 
Only  of  the  pale  dead. 

Philip.     Where  thou  shalt  reigrn  !         [Slabs  him* 

Alderman.       Who  striketh  him, 
Doth  make  a  foe  of  me. 

Annawan.  Make  way  ! 

Put  up  thy  hatchet — so  !  [Disarms  Alderman. 

Philip.     Braves,  treason's  tooth  had  gnawn  away 

the  thongs 

That  bound  his  duty  to  Pokanoket ; 
And  so  I  struck  lest  he  betray  us  too, 
And  face  the  garment  of  ingratitude 
With  blackest  infamy. 

Alderman.         Pometacom,  let  that  deep  lie 
Blister  thy  tongue  ! 

Philip.  Ha ! 

Alderman.  Stand  back  ! — 

How  is  it,  Agamaug  ? 

Agamaug.     Thou  must  dwell  in  the  evil  days  ; 
But  I  am  free.     With  kind  hands  to  my  grave 
Bring  me  a  gourd  of  water  and  fresh  food, 
That  so  my  soul  be  armored  from  the  fiends 
On  its  last  journey.     It  was  the  tribe's  hope. 
Whatever  he  says,  innocent  I  die  : 
Prove  it  to  men,  thou  witness  in  the  sky  !        [Dies. 

Alderman.     Farewell,  thou  noble  heart  ! 
I  thought  thy  way  to  herald  in  the  grave, 
Not  follow  it.     Peace  to  thy  gentle  shade  ; 
And  all  good  spirits  guard  thee  to  the  land 
Happy  with  light  of  never-ending  day. — 
Pometacom,  wrong  hast  thou  done  in  this  ; 
And  wakened  here  a  feeling  that  will  slake 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  123 

Its  bitter  thirst  at  fountain  of  thy  heart. 

His  face  was  dear  to  me  ;  his  little  steps 

I  led  when  first  a  child  he  clung  and  played 

Around  our  father's  lodge.     I  taught  his  arm 

To  bend  the  ashen  bow  ;  and  his  quick  cries 

Of  boyish  joy  when  sped  the  mimic  shaft, 

Was  music  in  mine  ear.     His  golden  dawn 

Lighted  the  forehead  of  my  manly  prime  : 

In  thought  I  lived  my  youth  again  in  him. 

He  camped  within  my  love  ;  he  was  the  eye 

With  which  I  saw  the  world,  and  thought  it  fair  ; 

And  as  we  ranged  beneath  the  hoary  trees, 

The  gracious  silence  seemed  to  subtly  weave 

In  one  firm  thread  the  feelings  of  our  hearts. 

In  slaying  him  thou  hast  slain  part  of  me  ; 

And  poisoned  at  its  source  the  loyalty 

I  bore  thy  person  and  devoted  cause. 

Revolt  and  deadly  hate  are  now  my  liege  ; 

And  they  do  cut  away  and  amputate 

My  gangrened  worship.     In  the  tides  of  war 

That  lap  thy  feet,  mine  arm  will  swim  the  first ; 

And  rising  on  a  cloud  of  vengeance  up 

To  spleen  my  sky  of  rage,  at  last  shall  fall 

A  thunderbolt  on  thee.  [Exit. 

Philip.     Through  misery's  wide  thicket  leads 
My  way  of  life  :  forever  must  I  live 
Vassal  to  fear,  though  ye,  I  think,  are  true. 
It  was  a  golden  mouth,  and  would  have  stirred 
Against  our  arms  some  quick  and  nimble  wrong. 
He  tempted  fate,  and  on  forbearance'  back 
Put  such  a  load,  my  justice  threw  it  off. 
Give  him  such  burial  as  befits  a  brave  ; 
Then  meet  me  in  the  gulch  where  lies  a  band 


124  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Posted  to  intercept  the  whites.     The  scouts 

Must  soon  return  with  fresh  intelligence. 

This  ambush  will  reset  our  broken  fight, 

And  give  the  traitors  pause.     Away  !  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV.— POKANOKET.  The  English  camp  on  the 
edge  of  a  swamp.  Night :  the  camp-fires  burning. 
Soldiers  bivouacked  under  the  trees. 

Enter  CHURCH  and  GOLDING. 

Golding.  He  reports 

The  remnant  of  the  thinned  Wampanoags 
Have  mustered  their  despair  in  yonder  swamp, 
To  make  a  last  appeal  to  victory. 

Church.     It  is  but  trial  of  their  heels  again, 
Or  battle  on  our  terms. 

Golding.  They  will  run, 

For  these  defeats  pour  in  their  willing  ears 
The  sweetness  of  their  former  life  of  peace. 
Desertions  are  as  frequent  as  the  bright 
Visits  the  cheerful  dawn  pays  to  the  east : 
The  few  that  drop  their  sad-eyed,  stone-cold  hopes 
Into  the  ocean  of  fidelity, 
Quickly  will  seize  the  hand  of  any  chance 
That  leads  to  door  of  peace. 

Church.  True,  Philip's  strong  will  alone 

Cements  the  wall  of  their  resistance  :  he 
Taken  or  dead,  their  edifice  of  war 
Will  crumble  down. 

Golding.  My  Captain,  this  campaign 

Powders  thy  sky  with  honors,  and  thy  name 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  125 

Brevets  with  ne  plus  ultra  ;  but  the  thought 
Roots  not  the  sorrow  from  thy  countenance 
Some  loss  hath  planted  there.     Yet  I  have  heard 
Men  will  in  solemn  moments  of  their  lives, 
As  this  is  now,  a  premonition  feel 
Of  death's  sad  coming,  when  they  see  beyond 
Horizons  of  the  present  to  the  day 
Presiding  over  our  mortality. 

Church.  Ah,  Golding, 

There  is  no  magic  in  the  morrow's  fray 
To  spell  my  spirits  into  banishment. 
I  go  to  it  with  such  a  willing  mind 
As  he  may  hold  who  seeks  his  bridal  couch  ; 
Or  any  careless  heart  that  casts  its  sail 
On  fortune's  waves,  and  sees  in  fancy  ride 
A  golden  shore  whose  sands  shall  wash  his  hope 
With  riches  of  Peru.     But  this  difference  mine  : 
While  they  set  in  their  view  the  happy  end, 
As  love,  possessions,  quest  of  noble  deeds, 
I  value  them  as  nothing  more  than  dross, 
And  consecrate  and  crown  the  labor's  brow 
But  with  the  joy  of  doing. 

Golding.  Some  poisoned  shaft 

Hath  drunk  the  fountain  of  thy  genial  ways, 
Where  we  have  seen  the  figure  of  a  wish 
To  walk  the  world  in  plausive  voice  of  men. 

Church.  Ay,  thou  dost  touch 

That  frail  desire  with  finger  of  the  truth, 
Which  now  is  but  an  echo  in  my  life, 
The  skeleton  of  all  my  sturdy  hopes. 
How  my  ambition's  stream  out  of  its  course 
Rudely  was  turned  by  fate's  malignant  hand, 
And  creeps  in  dull  bed  of  "  I-do-not-care," 


126  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Thy  sympathy  shall  know. 

I  wooed  an  Indian  maiden  ;  and  my  love 

Was  of  so  high  and  regal  quality, 

It  ordered  from  their  place  all  meaner  things 

That  stand  and  cry  "  deliver,"  to  the  world. 

My  passion  found  a  kingdom  in  her  soul 

Where  every  waking  thought  a  courtier  was 

That  knelt  in  duty  at  my  throne  of  love. 

Our  vows  were  plighted,  and  we  but  delayed 

A  holy  sanction  till  this  vase  of  war 

Was  cracked  to  pieces  by  the  hand  of  peace. 

In  Hadley  fight  where  Lothrop's  regiment 

Sank  in  the  mire  of  slaughter,  with  his  life, 

I  fell  a  captive  to  Totatomet, 

A  brave  of  Sogkonate  ;  and  by  command 

Of  Philip  was  I  sentenced  to  the  stake. 

The  brush  and  fagots  round  my  feet  were  piled  ; 

The  swarthy  faces  of  the  jeering  braves 

Shot  glances  'thwart  the  lurid  pine-knot  fires, 

That  gave  a  foretaste  of  the  horrid  draught 

Distilled  for  me  ;  and  plunged  an  icy  hand 

Deep  in  my  blood. 

Golding.  It  would  have  laid  in  fear 

An  iron  heart. 

Church.     I  stood  that  moment  on*the  edge  of  life. 
An  hour's  flight,  and  'mid  the  warriors'  yells, 
Ferried  on  burning  wings  of  agony, 
My  spirit  must  have  sped  in  that  black  gulf 
That  bounds   these  mortal  shores.     And   fabling 

hope 

Which  is  our  nurse  of  life,  deserted  me  ; 
And  I,  a  truant  from  the  perfect  faith, 
In  mine  extremity  had  put  my  thoughts 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  127 

Grown  up  in  sin,  to  school  of  our  great  Master, 
That  haply  he  promote  me  in  his  love 
To  seat  of  grace,  when  my  deliverance  came. 
From  out  the  sea  of  gloom — 

Enter  ALDERMAN. 

Alderman.  Hail !  pale-face, 

And  in  thy  wigwam  peace  ! 

Church.  Who  art  thou  ? 

Alderman.  One  that  the  wing  of  injury 

Wafts  to  thy  side. 

Church.  Wampanoag  ? 

Alderman.  Until  to-day  ; 

But  while  Pometacom  folds  him  in  flesh, 
A  hater  of  the  name. 

Church.  What  wouldst  thou  do  ? 

Alderman.    What  ye  have  not  yet  done,  though 

at  your  side 

Cohorts  of  soldiers  stood,  and  terror  ran 
Before  your  steps — I  mean,  if  ye  will  not 
Shudder,  trap  the  fox  of  Pokanoket. 

Church.  How  shall  we  know 

Thy  words  are  clothed  in  true  sincerity  ? 

Alderman.    Test  me  by  any  proof  thou  wilt. 
The  unequalled  genius  of  Pometacom 
Was  honored  in  my  mind  ;  I  cut  his  wrongs 
In  stone  of  my  devotion.     Where  he  led 
I  followed,  feeding  the  anger  of  my  blood 
With  ruin  of  the  whites.     Close  at  my  side 
Fought  Agamaug,  my  brother,  in  whose  life 
I  ever  spread  the  blanket  of  my  love. 
When  turned  the  tide  of  fortune  to  the  whites, 
And  our  affairs  that  erst  had  rode  in  state 


128  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Now  trudged  afoot,  my  brother  counselled  peace. 

For  this  offence  he  slew  him  ;  in  his  heart 

Buried  an  inch  of  steel  that  split  mine  too  ; 

And  with  that  hand  of  wrong 

Gouged  out  the  eye  of  my  esteem. 

I  am  familiar  with  his  plans,  will  lead 

Thy  forces  to  his  hiding-place,  and  ask 

No  recompense  :  his  fall  will  pay  me  all. 

Still  dost  thou  doubt  ?    Guard   me — place  at  my 

back 

Spies  to  transcribe  in  volume  of  thy  fear 
Each  look  and  word  and  act,  till  thou  admit 
The  stars  sooner  will  wander  from  their  path 
Than  I  from  my  revenge.     See  ! 

[Takes  a  burning  brand  from  the  fire,  and  thrusts  it  in 
his  arm.\ 

If  in  the  caverns  of  my  blood  there  lurks 
Merely  a  globule  of  respect  for  him, 
I  smoke  it  out. 

Church.          Enough  !     I  do  believe 
Thine  honesty  pants  at  the  very  side 
Of  thy  wild  words.     I  will  hear  more  of  this. 
Walk  there  aside. — Golding,  double  the  guards. 
If  this  be  but  a  ruse,  it  takes  us  not. 
As  to  the  matter  of  our  former  speech, 
If  I  have  stepped  out  of  my  whilom  self, 
My  change  hath  reason  in  it.  < .  But  no  more. 
The  morrow  steals  apace  when  we  shall  need 
Our  all  of  man  to  meet  and  push  aside 
That  desperate  arm.     To  rest  awhile. — 
Wampanoag ! 

Golding.     Our  fortunes  walk  with  thee  ! 

[Exeunt* 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  129 

SCENE  V. — POKANOKET.  A  swamp.  Remains  of  an 
Indian  camp  under  the  larch  and  spruce.  The 
morning  twilight. 

Enter  TUSPAQUIN  and  TATOSON. 

Tuspaquin.  Tatoson, 

Vainly  I  seek  in  battle's  crimson  bed 
Those  shadowy  arms  :  from  my  embrace  they  fly 
Aghast,  and  leave  me  still  alone  with  grief. 

Tatoson.     Let  not  these  inward  fiends 
Assail  thee,  Assawomset :  time  will  smooth 
His  face  to  welcome,  and  in  war's  dread  court 
Divorce  thy  soul  from  this  much-hated  life. 

Tnspaquin.  If  he  with  torture  or  with  banishment, 
A  heavier  lot,  had  paid  my  grievous  fault, 
I  would  have  smiled  ;  but  when  I  never  hear 
The  foot  of  menace  tread  upon  his  lips, 
Nor  while  his  face  sinks  in  that  gulf  of  gloom 
Speaking  more  loud  than  words  his  agony, 
His  looks  and  manners  throw  on  me  no  blame, 
I  breathe  but  bear  no  life.     In  Paugak  stream 
I  will  wash  off  the  knowledge  of  myself.         [Exit. 

Tatoson.  If  self-destruction  mangled  not 

The  body  of  our  creed,  he  would  conspire 
'Gainst  his  own  life. 

Enter  PHILIP  and  ANN  A  WAN. 

Philip.  Go  at  once 

Unto  the  red  oak  swale  :  hence  send  a  brave 
To  spy  me  if  the  whites  have  broken  camp. 
Bring  me  word  here.  \Exit  Tatoson. 

Annawan, 


130  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

We  are  a  prey  to  fate,  and  in  the  throes 
Of  cold  mortality  our  fortunes  lie. 

Annawan.      Shake  off  those  thoughts  !     If  they 

still  haunt  thy  mind, 
Fling1  at  them  slaughtered  men. 

Philip.         'Tis  written  on  the  sky  ! 
The  sun's  red  face  was  muffled  in  eclipse  ; 
And  on  the  silver  arm  of  the  wan  moon 
There  hung  a  red  man's  scalp.     The  Manitou 
Sorely  is  vexed,  and  turns  his  face  away. 

Annawan.  Tush  ! 

At  the  great  bar  he  cannot  charge  that  we 
Folded  the  arms  of  duty,  and  let  run 
Unchecked  this  new  disease  in  our  dear  land. 

Philip.     Bravest  of  men  !  how  like  a  second  self 
Have  been  thy  ways  to  me  ! 

Annawan.  Say  not,  Pometacom  ! 

I  love  a  battle  better  than  a  feast. 

Philip.       How  many  moons  have  brooched  with 

light 
The  livid  breast  of  night,  since  we  began  ? 

Annawan.     Twelve  as  I  think,  Pometacom. 

Philip.     Thou  art  a  novice  in  arithmetic  : 
In  only  twelve  could  treason  spawn  and  hatch 
Some    monstrous  brood  ?    Say  rather  since    the 

world 

Wore  infant  looks,  this  hath  been  plotting.     No  ! 
We  wage  a  war  with  phantoms  of  the  air  : 
But  strike  them  down,  and  feed  the  greedy  earth 
With  what  they  have  of  blood,  new  forces  rise 
In  mocking  tongues  to  question  our  report, 
And  all  our  work  undo. 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  IJI 

Annawan.  Hath  their  great  sea 

Crumbled  thy  fortitude  ? 

Philip.  If  in  my  veins  a  drop  of  blood 
Courses  that  doth  advise  this  heart  to  fear, 
I  beg  thee  sluice  it  out. 

Annawan.  My  Sachem  ! 

Philip.  No  ! 

I  am  a  brother  to  the  elements, 
All  iron  as  they  are  : 

I  would  not  make  a  sinner  of  my  thoughts, 
And  clothe  my  latter  days  in  infamy, 
By  bating  but  a  jot  the  righteous  hate 
I  bear  that  race. 

Re-enter  TATOSON. 

Tatoson.   The  pale-faces  have  pierced  the  swamp. 

Philip.  How  near  ! 

Tatoson.  Two  bow-shots  off. 

[  Yells  and  warwhoops  in  the  distance. 

Philip.  Fain  would  I  borrow  now 

Smiles  from  my  happier  days,  to  greet  this  news. 
Come,  Annawan,  there  are  lives  to  have. 

Annawan.      Now  thou  art  perfect.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  CHURCH,  ALDERMAN,  and  soldiers. 
Church.     That  way  they  fled.     Be  vigilant  and 

firm. 

It  is  a  blessed  hand  and  bathed  in  gold, 
That  brings  the  head  of  the  Pokanoket. 
Alderman.   The  voice  of  Agamaug  speaks  from 

the  grave 

Louder  than  thine.  [Reports  of  guns. 

Church.  Ha  !  their  muskets  call.     Away  ! 

[Exeunt. 


132  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

SCENE  VI. — ANOTHER  PART  OF  THE  SWAMP.  Some 
fallen  trees  on  one  side  ;  on  the  other,  higher 
ground  covered  with  rocks  and  cedars.  The  day 
dawns. 

Enter  PHILIP,  TATOSON,  and  braves. 

Philip.     Your  loyalty  revives  my  plant  of  life. 
Post  some  upon  that  mound  :  I  will  defend 
This  forward  path.     Ask  no  quarter — give  none. 

[TATOSON  and  part  of  the  braves  clamber  up  to  the  high 
ground^} 

Enter  ANNAWAN. 

Annawan.     The  cowards,  pah  !  to  run  at  the  first 

blow  ! 

Nushkah  !  I'd  rather  drill  these  sticks  and  stones 
In  forms  of  war,  than  captain  such  base  creatures. 

Philip.     It  matters  not :    here  will   I   take  my 

stand. 

Many  have  travelled  to  the  spirit  land 
Bearing  my  passport  on  their  brow  ;  and  more 
The  grim  sentinel  of  that  silent  shore 
Shall  challenge.     So,  farewell,  my  grizzled  brave  ! 
Thee  have  I  loved  as  father,  friend,  and  guide, 
In  whose  clear  soul  my  purpose  could  reside 
As  in  its  native  home — a  long  farewell  ! 
And  for  a  time  condemn  thyself  to  dwell 
Among  the  race  of  men.     Nay,  do  not  stay  ! 
Live  to  report  me  in  my  little  day  : 
How  worshipped  I  the  dear  Wampanoag  name, 
And  toiled  to  blazon  it  in  deeds  of  fame 
On  old  tradition's  scroll ;  and  when  it  fell, 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  133 

That  fatal  hour  did  strike  mine  own  death  knell. 
Why  dost  thou  stand  ? 

Annawan.  Because  I  smell  a  danger  ; 

For  if  I  knew  a  village  of  delight 
Where  peace  did  dwell,  and  here  unbottomed  ran 
Rivers  of  blood,  nothing  could  stir  me  hence. 
My  hatchet  laughs,  my  knife  in  ecstasy 
Leaps  to  my  hand,  and  calls  it  shame  of  shame 
To  kennel  but  in  blood. 

Enter  SOLDIERS. 

First  Soldier.     Surrender,  Philip  ! 
Annawan.     Do  not  jest  with  us.         [Shoots  him. 
First  Soldier.  I  felt 

The  spur  of  glory,  and  lie  here.  [Dies. 

Enter  TUSPAQUIN. 

Second  Soldier.     He  wears  a  head  of  gold 
Which  must  be  mine.          [Levels  his  gun  at  Philip. 

Tuspaquin.     Thine  is  too  mean  a  hand. 
[Strikes  down  his  musket  and  buries  a  knife  in  his  throat. 

Gleams  anywhere  a  blade 
Hungry  for  blood,  let  it  drink  mine. 

Third  Soldier.     Here,   brighten  this  for  higher 

work! 

Tuspaquin.     No,  thou  must  go  to  smooth  my  way. 
[Dashes  his  tomahawk  in  his  brain. 
Why  is  it  so  ? 

I  ask  thee  not  for  immortality. 
Fourth  Soldier.     Let   me   but  try  this  edge  on 
thee.  [Stabs  Tuspaquin. 


134  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Tuspaquin.     How  thou  hast  whetted  it ! — 
Sachem  Pometacom —  \Dies. 

Philip.  Brave  Tuspaquin  !— 

Pale-face,  he  waits  for  thee  ! 
[  Tomahawks  and  scalps  him :  holds  aloft  the  scalp-lock 

and  utters  the  terrible  warwhoop.~\ 
I  live  again  !  Let  him  that  hates  the  sun 
Look  on  my  face. 

Fourth  Soldier.     Hell  hound  ! 
In  thine  own  sulphur  burn  !     How  dark  it  is  ! 

[Dies. 
Annawan.     How  triumph  doth  caress  our  hand  ! 

Come  on  ! 

Philip.  Their  spirits  light  my  way. 

I  chide  mine  arm  that  is  so  merciful. 
But  here  are  more. 

Enter  GOLDING,  ALDERMAN,  and  soldiers  on  the  rocks 
above.  They  fight  with  TATOSON  and  his  braves 
and  drive  them  off. 

Alderman.     Down,  and  take  him  ! 

Philip.        Dog  !  dost  thou  crawl 
Back  to  my  sight,  to  be  whipped  hence  ? 

Alderman.  The  foot, 

The  stealthy  foot  of  vengeance  never  sleeps. 

Philip.  On  thy  crossed  brow 

Black  shame  shall  ever  sit. 

Alderman.  My  brother's  love 

Shall  wash  it  pure  as  snow. 

Philip.  Never ! 

Together  ye  shall  swim  in  pitchy  waves 
That  roll  on  black  hell  shore — and  on  thy  front 


PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET.  135 

Lettered  in  fire  that  word  of  infamy, 
Traitor.     But  touch  the  banks,  a  cloven  foot 
Deeper  shall  push  you  in. 

Golding.     No  parley  !     Philip,  throw  down  thine 

arms, 
And  to  our  justice  yield. 

Philip.  Come,  and  take  them. 

Golding.     The  red  bullet    shall    knock   at    thy 
heart.  \Fircs. 

Philip.        It  shall  be  welcome. 
I  care  not  when  I  go,  so  that  it  be 
In  hand  with  honor.     Herald  me  ! 

[Hurls  a  tomahawk  wJiicJi  grazes  the   cheek    of  AL 
DERMAN  and  sinks  in  the  breast  of  a  soldier  J\ 

Alderman.  Thy  flint  was  cold  : 

For  mine  it  is  reserved.  [Fires. 

Golding.  He  falls  ! 

Alderman.  And  by  his  fall, 

Ye  are  raised  up. 

Enter  CHURCH  and  soldiers  with  captives. 

Philip.  Annawan, 

Thy  hand — so  !     I  had  hoped  to  make  our  land 
A  graced  place  where  no  forest  voices  should 
Impeach  our  power  ;  and  where  in  all  his  walk 
The  sun  should  cast  no  shadow  of  a  white. 
But  my  dear  plans  were  snared  in  treason's  net, 
And  it  is  time  Pometacom  stepped  down 
Into  the  silence. 

Oh  treachery  !  what  soil  was  in  my  life 
That  thou  shouldst  grow  so  profligate  and  rank  ! 

[Dies. 


136  PHILIP    OF    POKANOKET. 

Annawan.     My  Sachem,  art  thou  gone  ? — 
Pluck  every  fear  out  of  your  craven  hearts  ; 
For  he  your  dark  despair  in  wonder  robed, 
Hath  passed  into  his  father's  summer  land. 

Alderman.     My  brother's   ghost  mourning  be 
neath  the  clay, 
Now,  well-contented,  travels  on  its  way. 

Church.     Thy  deed  speaks  for  thee,  Alderman, 

in  tongue 

Whose  echo  shall  be  heard  around  the  world. 
The  ruined  fields,  the  towns  in  ashes  laid, 
The  sacred  lives  plunged  in  their  timeless  graves, 
Gather  to  them  a  voice  out  of  the  dust, 
And  call  thee  to  the  banquet  of  their  praise. 
Misfortune  dogs  us  all  :  I  have  a  loss 
Espousing  me  to  sorrow  through  my  life. 
The  path  of  satisfaction  shalt  thou  tread  ; 
But  I  will  house  me  by  my  noble  dead, 
Tokens  to  strew  on  that  pathetic  mound 
Whose  heaving  turf  my  haggard   thoughts  will 

bound 

Till  death  shall  wave  his  banner  on  my  brow. 
Golding  shall  stamp  the  embers  out ;  but  thou 
Bequeath  to  me  the  arm  that  owes  his  life, 
And  on  our  borders  quenched  the  fires  of  strife. 

Alderman.     It  is  thine. 

THE  END. 


YC ! 


